


True Love's Kiss

by Slice_of_Apple



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angry Jean, Attempted Assault, Blood Drinking, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Lovers, Eren loves Jean's hair, Excessively slow burn, Feelings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Inordinately slow burn, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Poison, Ridiculously Slow Burn, Romance, Slow Burn, Sweet, Trauma, Vampires, Witches, angry Eren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26424628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slice_of_Apple/pseuds/Slice_of_Apple
Summary: Jean is a wall street asshole.  Eren is a vampire - sort of.  They hate each other. Really. They do. Can they overcome their mutual revulsion and work together to rescue Mikasa, who's been kidnapped by the local witches?
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 38
Kudos: 111





	1. Hate at First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> warning: attempted (vampiric) assault end of chapter 6/chapter 7, followed by kind of trauma response, avoid if that's a trigger. kind of gory blood drinking at the end. 
> 
> Wasn't sure if it should be should be Teen and Up, or Mature, but made it Mature to be on the safe side. Not really explicit.

That’s strange. Why is there a light on in the barn? And those noises. People talking? Jean wonders if he should call the police. It’s late, after all, and no one has lived here for months. Someone could be squatting. He could be walking into a drug den for all he knows. Jean rubs his stiff collar in annoyance. On top of everything else, he doesn't know why the bloody hell he didn't change before leaving work early.

It's been a very long day.

The six hour drive had turned into a nine-hour nightmare, what with the two hours of bumper-to-bumper traffic, the fact that he didn’t have cash for the toll because he had just cancelled his ATM card due to his card having been compromised, followed by the ticket because he was going 42 mph in a 35 mph zone, all coupled with the fact that he is finally coming back to this house alone after so many years. He hasn't been here since he was a kid, for Christ's sake. It doesn’t help that Jean is also hungry; for some stupid sentimental reason he decided to come see the place before getting a late dinner and checking into his hotel.

Jean feels anger bubbling up in him that someone is trespassing. Jean has never been particularly good at keeping his temper, and the confluence of circumstances is not helping. Fuck calling the police. He’s not letting anyone, drug dealers or not, spend another second in his barn. He grips the handle and tugs. At first he can’t open the door; it feels stuck. He adds a second hand and gives a sharp tug. Again, there is resistance. Jean’s anger increases, and he puts everything he can into opening the door. All at once it gives, and he rips the door open, eyes blazing.

It certainly looks like squatters. The barn is littered with all kinds of personal belongings, and even equipment. In the middle there is some weird, huge diagram, a geometric shape, _painted_ onto the floor, and _candles_ everywhere - luckily, not lit, but still. A total fire hazard.

There are two guys standing in frozen poses, one with a mass of brown hair, the other one smaller, with blonde hair. 

The brown-haired guy has the temerity to say, “Shit! Get the fuck out of here!”

He takes a step towards Jean, hands motioning Jean away, like he's threatening a stray dog. He is shorter than Jean, but there is something menacing in the controlled way he moves his body.

The guy’s words and posture only serve to sharpen Jean’s anger.

“ _You_ get the fuck out of here!” he retorts. 

“Eren!” says the smaller, blonde guy sharply. “Calm down! Let me handle this.” He moves so he is standing in front of Eren, physically blocking him.

“What are you doing in my fucking barn?” Jean asks him. He is happy to let the anger take over, guide him.

The two men exchange glances.

“This barn belongs to M. Etienne Kirstein,” says the blonde guy firmly. “And we have permission to use it.” He fumbles in a pack and pulls out a paper, handing it to Jean.

Jean takes it, sees the still-familiar elegant script. It is perhaps this sight, on top of the fatigue, the hunger, the cramped muscles, and the whole bloody situation, which tips Jean over the edge. How dare these people have had a closer relationship with Jean’s grandfather than Jean did himself? How dare they have _written evidence_ of this closeness? He is so far gone that, rather than taking a step back to assess the situation, maybe even reading the writing on the page, figuring out what exactly is going on, Jean steps forward, metaphorical guns blazing.

“M. Etienne Kirstein is _dead_ ,” says Jean. “And whatever permission you think you had died with him.”

The blonde guy's eyes widen. “What?” he gasps. This is clearly unexpected and unpleasant news to him. 

Eren spits out, “And you’re the rich investment banker-asshole who bought the place cheap so you could turn this lovely,” here he gestures around him at the old wooden beams “treasure into a stupid B & B for all your rich asshole friends who want to get away from the city air on weekends?”

“Eren!” commands the other guy.

Jean flushes, in part because he had indeed entertained the idea of turning the place into a money-making venture of some sort.

“None of your goddamned fucking business what I do or don’t do with my own fucking property!” he says.

Eren swings around. “How did this asshole get past the wards, Armin?” Jean blinks. Eren doesn’t seem to have understood that Jean meant what he said. That he wants them to be gone from the barn. Instead, Eren is acting like _Jean_ is in the wrong, like _Jean_ is trespassing, like _Jean_ is the one who has to be dealt with.

“I’m not sure,” says Armin thoughtfully. “It is possible that his ownership rights to this space grant him access. Or perhaps something else is going on.”

If anything, the way they’re discussing Jean as though he isn't right there, actively listening to them, fans the flames even further. 

“I’m going to give you 15 minutes to clear out. If you’re not gone in that time, I’m calling the police,” he announces angrily.

There’s a strange noise coming from Eren’s direction. Is he… growling? Armin takes a deep breath and places a placating hand on Eren’s arm.

“Please forgive us. This is all a bit of a surprise, Mr. ... um... ah?” Armin begins, with a questioning politeness.

“Jean,” he says in automatic response to the query. “You can call me Jean.” Only after the words are out of his mouth does he furiously realize what he’s just let slip out of reflexive habit. It must be the fatigue. 

“Ah, _Jean_ ,” says Armin, smiling in a friendly and relieved way at the direction the conversation has just taken. “We would be happy to leave now that we are no longer welcome here. I hope you can understand that we had an arrangement with the prior owner, who was perfectly aware and supportive of our presence. We have fairly delicate equipment here, and it will take us at least a day or two to clear everything out. Would you be able to give us a little more time?”  


Jean pauses. It is a reasonable request, and he's somewhat disarmed by Armin's open, engaging manner. It’s been a long day, and he knows that he has to work extra hard when he’s tired to keep his temper in check, to not say something he’ll later regret. He is on the verge of backing down, smoothing out the situation, maybe even agreeing with Armin’s proposal, when Eren opens his stupid mouth. He says to Armin, but loud enough for Jean to hear, “He’ll never do that. Look at him, the tool. He just wants to get started making money out of this place.”

Jean can see that Armin has seen that Jean’s face, which was on the verge of relaxing, settles instead into a deep scowl. He also sees Armin give Eren a frustrated swat. While Jean is gratified that Armin, too, is annoyed with Eren, it’s not enough to stop Jean from saying, “No.”

He holds up his phone like a weapon. “Fifteen minutes, or I’m calling the police.”

Jean knows fifteen minutes is a preposterous demand. There’s no way a team of movers could clear out the barn in fifteen minutes. And he hasn’t seen a vehicle anywhere, he doesn’t know if they even have one. But he’s backed himself into a corner now, and he just wants them, and in particular that asshole Eren, gone.

He holds the phone higher so he can take a picture of the two of them. For the police. 

Eren snarls, “Don’t you dare take a fucking picture!”

Jean’s eyes glance quickly at the screen. It’s weird, but even though he’s pointing the camera straight at Eren, he can only see the faintest outline of Eren’s figure; Eren's features are indistinct. As he’s trying to adjust the view in order to get a clearer image, the phone is ripped out of his hands. The next thing he knows, Eren is breaking the phone in two with his bare hands, as though it’s made of cardboard.

“What?!!!” Jean is completely outraged. “You just destroyed my phone!”

“I told you to stop taking pictures!” Eren’s eyes have taken on a red cast, and he seems to have grown slightly larger. His teeth are winking out from the corners of his mouth.

“You can’t… fucking… _break_ my phone!” Jean splutters, but there is something in Eren’s face, and the way he so casually tore Jean’s phone in two, that has Jean starting to feel just the teensiest bit frightened. This guy not only clearly has anger issues, he seems to be extremely strong.

Armin grabs Eren’s arm. Eren shakes it off, rumbling, “Let go of me.”

“Eren. Please. Consider the situation. We’re the ones who are trespassing.”

“Damn straight you’re trespassing. You have twelve minutes left,” Jean warns. This is now something of an empty threat, as Jean no longer has his phone. Who even knows if the phone lines in the house are connected? Jean doubts it. But Jean has never been one to shy away from a fight. It’s partly how he’s been so successful at his job. Although lately, he seems to have lost some of the killer instinct. That kind of hunt, slick and amoral, has started to trouble, even disgust, him at times. It’s why he’s up here, killing two birds with one stone, as it were. He should have come months ago to settle the property, and he finally decided to combine the trip with the four years of vacation he’s never taken. He’s got 8 weeks.

It’s not an auspicious beginning. 

“What should we do?” Eren asks Armin, in a more serious tone of voice.

“I think we have to call it off,” Armin says slowly.

“No fucking way,” yells Eren, banging his hand on the table. The table splinters and Jean jumps involuntarily. Armin, however, doesn’t appear to pay any attention to this outburst, as if he is used both to Eren’s incredible displays of strength, as well as his tantrums. “We can’t call it off! It’s already been three weeks, and we won’t get another reasonable alignment for months! My sister… we don’t have time!”

“Listen, Eren. We were pushing it anyway. It wasn’t the perfect alignment. And now the host is against us. The pentagram is weakened.”

‘No!” cries Eren. He sounds anguished.

“They’re not going to hurt her,” says Armin. “If they do, they risk squandering all her power.”

“You keep saying that, but we don’t know it for sure. It’s not a guarantee.”

Armin sighs. “If they harm her in any way- _in any way_ , _Eren_ – she will lose all value to them.”

“All value except as a lure,” Eren says dully.

Armin evidently doesn’t have a response to this particular point. Instead, he says, “We’re going to get her back, Eren. We are,” he adds firmly. “But not tonight.”


	2. A Shot

Eren wilts. He crumples onto the beat-up old couch, his hands over his eyes. He looks shattered.

Jean blinks. What the hell is going on? What were they just talking about? Has someone been _kidnapped_? It sure sounds like that’s what they were saying. Jean doesn’t care the least bit about Eren, but if Eren’s sister is in danger, shouldn’t the authorities be notified?

He can’t stop himself from asking Armin. “Is his sister okay? Shouldn’t you get the police involved?”

“You. Shut. The Fuck. Up.” Eren turns raging eyes on him. “You stupid idiot,” he adds venomously. “You’ve already done enough damage.”

“Seriously, though,” Jean speaks to Armin. He’s not engaging Maniac Eren again if he can help it. “If not the police, then maybe the FBI?”

“They can’t help,” says Armin shortly.

Jean mulls this one over. If Eren’s sister is kidnapped, but the police or FBI can’t help, who could be responsible? A cult? The mob? Are there mob ties here in this small college town? The whole thing is so outside of Jean’s personal experience, and it’s such a bizarre thought, that Jean can’t process it. He isn’t thinking straight, anyway, what with the fatigue and the hunger and the surreal nature of the last twenty minutes. He somehow manages to feel both lightheaded and thick.

“How can the police or the FBI not be helpful in a kidnapping situation?” he wonders aloud.

Eren lets out a groan that turns into a growl. Jean shuts his mouth.

Armin is calling someone on his phone. “Levi’s not answering,” he says worriedly. He bites his lip anxiously, then apparently comes to a decision. “I’m going to go find him. Don’t go anywhere.” This to Eren.

Eren doesn’t answer.

“Promise me?” It's a question.

Eren stares at the floor in front of the couch.

“Promise me, Eren.” Armin pushes.

Still, no response.

Armin voice takes on a begging quality. “The mission will definitely fail if you jump in half-cocked on your own, and Mikasa will be dead – or worse. Do you understand?”

Eren nods sullenly, but even in his dizzy state, Jean notes that Eren still hasn’t promised. It’s the kind of thing Jean did as a kid – give the impression of agreeing without actually doing so. Like the way he used to cross his fingers behind his back to nullify any promises he might be making. It’s _cheating_.

Armin, however, seems to be satisfied with the nod. Probably because he’s so desperate to contact this Levi character. But maybe that’s good, because if Eren leaves, then Jean can leave, too. Once he’s out of range of these nutcases, gotten some food in him, hopefully he’ll be able to think things through a little better, come up with a plan on how to address this bizarre situation.

Armin proceeds to squash this hope.

“Jean. You’ll have to stay here a little longer,” he says, “until we figure out what to do. I’m sorry, but you can’t leave either. ”

“What do you mean, I can’t leave? Of course I can leave! I’m leaving right now.” He gets up and proceeds to demonstrate walking out the open door. And walks slam-bang right into what feels like a wall.

“Dammit!” he says, rubbing his nose. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry,” Armin repeats apologetically. “Just for a short while.”

“You can’t trap me in here! I’m starving! And I’m not staying cooped up with that animal!”

Armin opens up the mini fridge and takes something out, thrusting it into Jean’s hand.

“I shouldn’t be longer than twenty minutes or so,” he says. “I’m sorry, I really do have to go. It’s imperative that I talk to Levi immediately. And Eren- you absolutely can NOT leave. I mean it! You’d be jeopardizing Mikasa’s safety. Not to mention your own. And ours, because we’d have to come rescue you. And all the people in this town who well get caught in the crossfire of an operation gone wrong. You cannot leave.”

With these ominous words, he’s gone.

  
  


Jean sighs. He’s starting to feel like this whole thing may be one giant hallucination. He’s so tired. And hungry. He opens his hand. What did Armin give him? A sandwich? He folds back one of the bread slices. Peanut butter and jelly. Feeling like he’s back in elementary school, he takes a bite. It has a bit too much peanut butter in it, but he manages to get it down without choking. He makes his way over to the industrial-sized sink and gets some water. Once he’s done, he feels better. It’s amazing how effectively food changes one’s outlook on life.

Finally paying attention to the scrabbling sounds coming from the other part of the barn, he turns to look at Eren. Jean does a double take. Eren is busily filling up a backpack. 

“What are you doing?” Jean asks cautiously.

Eren doesn’t answer. He is too busy strapping on what looks like a military-type vest, thick with protection and – are those knives in the pockets? Eren looks like he’s gearing up for a serious confrontation. For war.

Jean tries again. “Armin told you to stay here.”

Eren ignores him, of course.

Jean doesn’t know why he’s bothering. None of this has anything to do with him. And if Eren buggers off, Jean might even be able to slide out with him. But the situation worries him. It’s a frightening sight, Eren in this military uniform. Lord only knows what damage he will wreak on this town,with his strength in combination with some serious weaponry.

Plus, despite trying to justify his own behavior in his head ( _They’re trespassers! Eren is a fiend! A fiend who destroyed Jean’s phone_!) Jean can’t quite quell a feeling of guilt on two fronts. One, that he didn’t back down, maybe try to talk things out, negotiate. He’s been trying to not be such an asshole lately, and he clearly failed in that objective tonight. Two, and more importantly, that Jean has somehow prevented Eren’s kidnapped sister from being rescued. Not only does that have serious implications for the victim, this crazy beast before him is now clearly planning on attempting a single-handed rescue. He’ll end up blowing up half the town, Jean is sure of it.

Not without Jean at least making an effort to stop him, he’s not.

Jean walks quietly up to Eren and takes hold of his arm.

Eren mechanically bats Jean away with such force that Jean crashes into the splintered table. It hurts. He’ll have bruises tomorrow. He stands up, rolling his shoulders. Jean may look like a soft city fuck, but his mouth has always gotten him in trouble, and he’s no stranger to scrappy fights. He’ll be damned if he lets some savage destroy his grandfather’s town.

Eren plainly isn’t expecting any further pushback from Jean. He’s wholly focused on sorting his equipment. When Jean tackles him, hurling himself onto Eren’s back, he has the element of surprise on his side. Eren goes down.

They roll around on the floor a few times before Jean loses this advantage, and then it’s all over.

It’s over because Eren’s eyes flash a dark red. His canine teeth elongate until they are sharp fangs. His skin pales. He hisses at Jean. Jean scrambles backwards on his hands and knees, utterly terrified by the transformation.

Eren slowly rises, his eyes like red flames, and stomps towards Jean. Jean backs away until he hits the side of the barn. He is staring up at the ravening monster Eren has become, a monster who was insanely strong even before he turned into an actual monster.

Eren is towering over him, a dark, shadowy mass of rage. He’s bending down. He’s going to rip Jean in two, tear him apart with his fangs.

There is a loud bang, and Eren falls forward to the ground, missing Jean by a hair.

Armin is standing in the entryway, a smoking gun in his hand.


	3. Tea and Sympathy

Five minutes later, Jean is propped up on the couch, holding a mug full of something that smells of cinnamon and vanilla. He automatically brings it to his lips and splutters on the near-boiling liquid. 

Eren has been dumped in a pile at the other end of the long couch. He is unconscious. His head is encircled by the tiny, loose chains that expanded from the bullet Armin shot out of his gun. Armin has clipped a second set of the chains around Eren’s hands. They are small and very fragile-looking, and Jean for the life of him can’t figure out how Armin thinks they can possibly keep Eren down.

“Those aren’t gonna hold that maniac!” he says, pointing out the obvious.

“Yes they will,” says Armin confidently. “They’re spelled silver.”

Looking closer, Jean can see that Eren’s breathing is shallow, and his skin is paler than it was before.

Silver… silver. What was it about silver?

The wheels turn slowly in Jean’s tired, shocked brain. In his mind, he can still see Eren’s red eyes and the long canines.

Silver and… vampires?

“He's a… vampire?” he asks. A part of his mind can’t believe he’s seriously asking that question.

“Of a sort,” says Armin. “But don’t worry. He doesn’t feed on humans. At least, not usually.”

Jean stares at him. Is that meant to be _reassuring_?

Armin gently pats Jean’s knee and urges him to drink his tea. Jean finds himself doing so, wondering all the while if Armin has perfected the art of soothing people through all his practice on Eren. Remembering Eren as a human brings to mind the circumstances in which Armin found them. He finds himself trying to defend himself to Armin.

“He was about to leave, all geared up like that. I was trying to stop him. _You_ told him not to leave.”

Armin sighs. He is sitting in the middle of the couch, a wall between Jean and Eren. “I was afraid that might happen. Look, I’m sorry you’ve gotten involved in this situation.”

“ _You’re_ sorry,” grumbles Jean. “What the hell is going on?” He tries to make his voice rough again, to recapture the anger, but instead it sounds thin and whiny.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated, but, in a nutshell, Eren’s sister has been kidnapped by the local coven.”

“ _Coven_?” asks Jean. “You mean, of _witches_?” Jean feels like his head is going to explode.

“Yes. The college is actually an ancient witch stronghold. All the more prominent faculty have very powerful magic. The coven has been run for many decades by a particularly nasty, reactionary warlock, who has no interest in fostering peace between the various races. In fact, a long-time goal of his has been to destroy this haven.” He gestures around him.

“Is Eren’s sister a vampire, too?”

Armin shakes his head. “Reasonable assumption, but no. She has other… abilities. We’ve traced her here, and we know she’s being held somewhere on the campus, although we haven’t been able to pinpoint her exact location. We think they got her through the use of a totem.”

“A totem?” asks Jean.

“An object that holds power over Mikasa. It could be a small wax model, her fingernails, her hair, or even something to which she has a close personal connection. The wards in the college are very strong, though. We’ve also been hampered by the fact that they are very familiar with both Eren and myself. That's really stymied our reconnaissance efforts.” He looks glum. “As you may imagine, Eren is half out of his mind with worry. While not an excuse for his behavior, I hope you can see that there _are_ extenuating circumstances. He is actually quite a decent person.”

Jean manages to almost smother his snort of disbelief.

Armin continues, “We had planned a rescue tonight, even though it’s not the best night, but then...” his voice trails off.

“I arrived,” supplies Jean.

“Well, yes. But, overall, it was probably for the best. I believe that a mission carried out tonight would have had very little chance of success. The moon is not ideal for the divining spell we were attempting. Eren had pushed quite forcefully - ”

_There’s a surprise!_ thinks Jean. 

“- so we were going to forge ahead, even without having found the totem, but it was not the most strategic move on our part. While of course Eren may not see it this way, it was probably lucky, for us at least, that you happened to come by and put an end to the attempt.”

Jean thinks Armin is probably at least in part saying this to prevent Jean from feeling guilty about single-handedly ruining their rescue attempt. Jean finds himself warming to this person who doesn’t even know Jean, and probably doesn’t like him very much, yet is still trying to shield him from guilt. He is also drawn to Armin’s straightforward manner. Perhaps most importantly, he is grateful to Armin for saving him from being eaten alive by Vampire Eren. This may be what prompts him to make an offer he will in all likelihood regret later.

“It’s fine with me if you if you stay here as long as you need. To – to sort things out.”

Armin lets out a long breath. “Are you sure?” he asks Jean, looking at him keenly.

“Yes,” answers Jean firmly. He is altogether certain that he doesn’t want the prolonged abduction or death of Eren’s sister on his conscience.

“Thank you!” Armin’s face is all beaming smile. Then the smile fades and he adds, “There is… ah… one more thing.” For the first time, he looks a bit nervous. “Your grandfath – I mean, M. Kirstein-“

“It’s obvious, huh?” Jean interrupts.

“You do bear a strong resemblance to him,” says Armin by way of explanation. “Aside from the hair color, that is. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way.” But Jean doesn’t want to talk about his grandfather here, with Armin, so he doesn’t respond. After a pause, Armin continues. “He always let us stay in the house, even when he was travelling. So, our things are in the house as well. We can move them out tomorrow, if that’s all right with you?”

Jean takes in this unexpected bit of information. The barn is one thing, but the _house?_ On the other hand, is he really going to kick them out? Where will they stay? It’s not his problem; but then, it sort of _is_ his problem now. He’s _made_ it his problem by screwing up their plan. He could kick himself. How many times does he have to prove to himself that sometimes it’s better to keep his fucking mouth shut?

He sighs. “It’s fine,” he says. “It’s a big house. There’s plenty of room.”

Armin’s face lights up even further. He doesn’t try, as Jean is perhaps belatedly hoping he might, to politely refuse the offer.

Jean quickly adds, “I’ll be joining you, though. I’m here for the better part of the summer.”

Armin’s smile doesn’t waver. Jean feels unexpectedly touched by this. For some stupid reason, he’s _happy_ that Armin doesn’t seem to hate him, despite his earlier performance.

“Thank you, Jean, for your generosity. You can’t even begin to understand how helpful this is to us.”

“As long as _that_ _one_ behaves,” says Jean with a frown, pointing at the unconscious Eren.

“I’ll talk to him,” says Armin reassuringly. “Not to worry. You’ll hardly see us.”

Jean ends up having to help carry Eren into the house, as this is definitely a two-person job. He’s a bit nervous to touch Eren, given the circumstances, but Eren's ankles feel perfectly normal, aside from being unexpectedly cold. He considers “accidentally” dropping Eren’s feet on to the stone steps leading up to the front door (see how he likes _that_!) but doesn’t, as this would most definitely put a strain on Armin.

As Jean flees from Eren’s room, he can hear Armin murmuring softly to him. He ends up checking into the hotel after all. Despite his offer to the contrary, he’s not quite ready to spend a night under the same roof as a vampire, even one bound in silver.

  
Jean wakes up late, and by the time he’s bought a new phone, it’s the middle of the day. When he arrives back at the house, Armin is busy cooking in the kitchen. It smells heavenly. Luckily, Eren is nowhere to be seen.

“Jean!” says Armin with a bright smile. “Have you had lunch yet?” Jean smiles involuntarily. It’s a nice way to be welcomed back into the house that holds so many memories for him.

Armin is a good cook.

“Cheers,” says Jean around a mouthful.

“Cheers,” responds Armin.

Jean leans over his plate. “I’ve been thinking over what you said yesterday, and I have a few more questions.”

“As expected,” says Armin calmly .”I’m happy to share what information I can.”

Jean dives right in.

“How did he become a vampire? Did another vampire suck his blood or something?”

“First, to clarify, Eren is only partially a vampire. This is because he is the product of illegal experimentation with vampire blood.”

Jean’s eyebrows shoot up.

“He had a psychotic father,” adds Armin casually, as if talking about the weather.

“His _father_ experimented on him? Turned him into a _vampire_?” Jean asks, horrified. Jean has always thought his own family was pretty fucked up, what with his father walking out, and the estrangement between his mother and his grandfather, but obviously this is a whole other level of fucked-upness.

“A partial vampire,” Armin corrects, shrugging. Armin has apparently made peace with this information, because it doesn’t seem to faze him. Jean, however, can’t wrap his head around it. Sheesh. Talk about deranged.

“His father was a transfusion medicine researcher,” Armin continues. “He performed experiments on Eren, without Eren’s knowledge or consent, of course. Under the guise of medical treatment for a trumped-up illness. Perhaps contrary to first impressions, Eren Jaeger has grown up into a remarkably stable human being, given his upbringing.”

“Is his _endearing personality_ the result of the vampire blood?”

Armin laughs. “You mean his hot-tempered explosiveness? You’d think so, right? But no, that’s all Eren, I’m afraid. He’s always been like that, ever since he was young.”

“You’ve known him since he was a kid ?”

Armin nods. Jean waits for a bit, but Armin does not elaborate. Jean is surprised to find himself totally fascinated by Eren, wanting to learn as much as he can about him. On the one hand, this is a bit odd, considering how much he already hates Eren. On the other hand, it’s probably not so strange to be curious. He’s never encountered a supernatural being before. Although, he’s still not quite sure he believes in supernatural beings, despite the evidence to the contrary.

“What does it mean, that he’s only a partial vampire?”

“The experiments didn’t fully take, for whatever reason. Eren has retained many aspects of his humanity. For example, while he enjoys drinking human blood, he doesn’t need it to survive, and typically refrains from indulging in that activity.” Jean can’t help but grimace at this revelation. The sight of blood, especially his own blood, has always made him queasy. The one time he tried to donate, he fainted as soon as he saw the flash of red in the tubing. The procedure had to be aborted.

Armin continues, “He is also unharmed by sunlight. The end result of this is that the vampires don’t trust him. Then again, the humans don’t trust him, either, because of his superhuman vampire abilities. So he walks a fairly lonely path. That’s probably in part why he and his sister are so close.”

Jean is thinking about how Eren would cut a rather tragic figure if he wasn’t such an unsympathetic, volatile savage, when Eren himself stumbles into the kitchen. His eyes are closed, and he shuffles blindly into the empty chair. He looks rather the worse for wear. Even though he is no longer bound by it, the silver seems to have really done a number on him.

“Jean says we can stay here as long as we need, Eren,” says Armin loudly, giving Jean an encouraging look, as though asking Jean to pay attention to the tangible proof he is about to offer that Eren can behave.

“That prick?” Eren grunts, plainly not realizing that Jean is present. “What is he getting out of it?” Armin opens his mouth, but Jean beats him to it.

“That prick isn’t getting anything out of it,” says Jean, “except, apparently, the satisfaction of doing penance for the sins he committed in a prior life.”

Eren’s eyes shoot open. Jean rises, nodding to a very red-faced Armin, and says, “Thanks for lunch. It was delicious.”


	4. Chapter 4

Armin turns out to be correct. Jean ends up seeing relatively little of Eren or Armin. They are mostly out and about or closeted in the barn, presumably hard at work with preparations for their rescue attempt. Jean can almost forget about the idea of supernatural beings wandering the earth and turn his attention to his grandfather’s estate. He does a thorough inspection of the house, finding all the small repairs that need to be made. He starts sorting through his grandfather’s things. The attic is chock full of stuff, most of it garbage. He seems to have saved every single piece of paper he ever owned. There are receipts from the hardware store dating ten years earlier. 

As he begins the herculean task of sorting the stuff into piles (recycle, trash, keep, uncertain), Jean feels like his own head is likewise simultaneously starting to be sorted. This process started when he drove off the interstate exit on his way here, it got a little sidetracked with the events of the first night, and now it’s becoming a little clearer every day, like a fog is lifting from his brain. He’s not ready to give up his condo or anything like that, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to stay much longer in his job. There’s something about being in this house that has him relaxing into himself in a different way. He feels like he’s more grounded, more real, more _Jean_.

The next time he even talks to Armin is a few days later, when Jean walks into the kitchen with his hands full of groceries.

Armin immediately gets to work helping him unload. “But I already bought milk,” he says, holding up the gallon Jean had bought.

“That’s _your_ milk,” Jean points out.

“Jean,” Armin laughs. “You’re letting us stay in your house. The least we can do is supply you with food! I tried to get the stuff you like.”

“Oh,” says Jean, somehow still surprised by Armin’s thoughtfulness.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Armin adds. “You’re welcome to join us for meals. I noticed that you mostly get takeout, and I always cook too much.”

Jean thanks him politely, but he knows the invitation comes with strings, strings that unfortunately are also attached to a partial vampire, and he’s not ready to voluntarily spend any time in Eren’s presence.

It’s while he’s on a hike, surveying the gorgeous patchwork of the New England countryside spread out below him, that Jean’s mind returns in earnest to thoughts about kidnapped people, witches, and colleges. This is probably because although it’s been quite a few days, no headway seems to have been made in rescuing Eren’s sister. Eren’s words, stored somewhere in the recesses of Jean’s brain, surface every now and again: “….we don’t know it for sure. It’s not a guarantee.” Is she really okay? If it was his own sister who had been kidnapped, he imagines he’d be going crazy. There is something about the idea of her being held hostage, maybe even locked up somewhere in a small space, that makes Jean’s skin crawl. He himself has never been comfortable with being trapped in any way.The whole thing doesn’t feel good. It makes him worried. And the way Jean has always dealt with worry is through action. So he starts acting. 

It takes him far less time than he thought it would. In the end, he’s quite proud of himself. He really thinks he’s got it.

“Have a minute?” he asks Armin. He’s not sure where Eren is, but he hopes it’s nowhere near the kitchen.

“Sure,” says Armin, sitting down. He can see Jean has something on his mind.

“Well.” Now that he’s here, actually facing Armin, his idea doesn’t seem quite as shiny and sparkly as it did in the confines of his own mind.

Armin waits patiently, not saying anything.

“Well,” he repeats, then bites the bullet, his words falling out in a rush, “You mentioned the most prominent faculty having powerful magic. I did some digging, and I found that Professor Reiss, you know, the economist-” Armin doesn’t move a muscle; nonetheless, there is a subtle shift in the air, and Jean thinks, immediately: _I’m right_! A flash of pleasure zings through his body; he loves that feeling, of cracking a tough puzzle, of success. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through the images as he talks with growing confidence.

“See, here he is with the Mayor, and here with the Chief of Police. Over here with various City Council members, and here, with the college Dean. And I thought, of course, a chief warlock would definitely be cronies with all the people in power. And the more I looked at him, and read about him, the more I thought that he’s probably also a warlock who’s gone a bit to seed. Maybe he used to be dangerous, but he’s old and fat, now – I mean, just look at him – and he likely relies on others to protect him. He’s probably arrogant as all fuck, too, thinks that mere humans would never be a threat to him. Then, when I went to one of his lectures, you know, the ones in the summer series that are open to the public-“

Here Armin sucks in a breath, but Jean keeps going.

“- I knew that I was right. He looks down at regular people like we’re weak nothings, lower than dirt. And that is where he’s vulnerable. So, here’s my idea. Trying to skulk around hidden hasn’t worked out for you yet. You haven’t found that totem you’ve been looking for, you haven’t made headway in locating where … um… Mikasa is being held.”

Armin makes no protest, confirming Jean’s guess with his silence.

“How about you call him out? In a series of open confrontations? And while he and his underlings are occupied with fighting you, I’ll have the liberty to search all the places the totem might be. I bet the college is highly protected against vampires, but not so much against people, because they honestly don’t think normal people could be any kind of threat. Also, this will buy you additional time, before _they_ do something to provoke _you_ into action." He doesn’t feel the need to explicitly point out that any kind of provocation like this could very well involve torturing Mikasa.

“I figure he would personally take charge of something as important as a totem. So all I would have to do is search the areas where he spends the most time, like his house and his office. Although, I don't think it's in his house, which is way out here; probably the wards are a bit weaker there. I think he’d want to put it somewhere with full protection. My money’s on his faculty office. It’s here,” Jean pulls up a map on his screen, “in the library building. I would guess that place is stuffed with ancient magic and is probably most fully protected against vampires compared to any other building on the campus. And even if I didn’t find the totem, I bet I’d find something that would be useful, at least as useful as what you guys have been able to find.”

Armin is staring at him, dumbfounded, when he hears a low hiss coming from behind them. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Jean whirls around. Eren is in the doorway, his face set in furious lines.

“Eren!” says Armin, jumping up. Eren continues to give Jean a death stare, ignoring Armin completely.

“Why the hell are you poking your long nose into our business?”

Jean, flush with success, doesn’t back down. “I’m right, aren’t I?” he says defiantly. “About Reiss, being the head of the coven?” He doesn’t need an answer, though, he’s already gotten one from Armin. “I’m trying to help,” he adds, angrily.

“No one wants your help. We can handle it!”

“Oh, really?” says Jean, rising from his chair. He’s not going to be intimidated anymore just because Eren is a vampire. There’s something about being in the house, in his grandfather’s kitchen, that bolsters him, gives him strength. “Then where the fuck is your sister? Why is she still kidnapped? I don’t think you _can_ fucking handle it. I think you need all the help you can get.” 

Armin draws in a sharp breath. Eren’s eyes widen, like he can’t believe Jean just said that. Jean can’t really believe it either, but he’s worked himself up into such a state that he doesn’t care. “This is a decent plan, and I think you should at least consider it!”

“Decent isn’t good enough, Kirstein! Just because you wear stupid clothes and have that _hair_ , and you look like you stepped out of a magazine, and you drive a fucking fancy car, and you _inherited_ this fucking house does NOT mean you know jack shit about how to get my sister back!”

“What the hell kind of juvenile insults are those, Jaeger? _Who cares_ what clothes I wear or what my hair looks like? What fucking magazine? And just because you’re a vampire doesn’t mean _you_ know how to get your sister back, either! Because she’s _not_ _back_!” By now, Jean is shouting.

Armin has moved to stand between them, but Eren sweeps him away with a snarl of rage and launches himself at Jean. Jean wasn’t going to start anything physical, but he’s sure as hell not going to just roll over and take it from Eren. The strength he felt earlier seems to flow into him a little more, and he draws a fist back and lets fly. It’s a solid punch, especially when connecting with Eren’s forward momentum.

There’s a loud crack, and Eren staggers backwards into the wall. As he forces himself upright, he’s changing, just like before, getting bigger, his eyes reddening. And Jean is afraid, all right, but under the fear he’s still so pissed off at this overgrown fucking baby who won’t get past whatever stupid prejudice he has against Jean to accept help that he launches himself at Eren and starts hitting wherever he can land a punch. Who cares if he’s a vampire? He’s still a jackass.

Eren, beyond rage, scrabbles to get a hold on Jean, while Jean pummels him, until he finally latches on to Jean’s shoulders and hurls him off. Jean slams into the floor, the wind knocked out of him. He’s gasping and choking, and it hurts like hell, but he’s getting up, he’s got to get up, because Eren is stomping towards him, and no way is Jean going to let his life be snuffed out by that infantile bastard. He struggles weakly to his feet. But Jean just cannot catch a break because there’s what sounds like a clap of thunder and a searing pain in his side, and he feels like he’s been run over by a truck. He falls back to the floor in a limp heap.

“What the hell is going on in here?” asks a flat voice.

When Jean can finally lift his head up, he sees a surprisingly small man with black hair glowering down at him.

“Levi,” says Armin into the sudden silence, looking embarrassed.

Jean is happy to see that Eren received the same treatment he did and is also struggling to rise up to a sitting position. Jean takes a deep breath and thinks that he should probably consider this a victory. It’s not every day that a human can hold his own against a vampire, even if it is only a partial vampire. And even if the fight was ended by someone else. Yeah, he’s definitely going to consider it his victory. Score one for Jean.

They are sitting down in the kitchen, Jean and Eren at opposite ends of the table.

“Kirstein comes up with a reasonable plan, selflessly offers his help, and Jaeger attacks him for it?”

Eren at least has the grace to blush, but he is muttering under his breath, “hmmph… idiot… _look_ at him.”

“Stupid brat,” Levi says, in his monotone. “I think we should strongly consider it,” he adds, to Jean’s surprise. “We could certainly use some fresh thinking on the subject.”

  
Jean barely bites back an “I told you so.” He has an embarrassing urge to stick his tongue out at Eren. Thankfully, he is able to restrain himself. Not only does his body not need any more beatings today, he would like to bask in the little bit of moral superiority he feels he has won.

“But I also share what I believe may be Jaeger’s reservations. Just why exactly are you willing to do this, Kirstein?”

It’s Jean’s turn to flush, but there’s something in Levi’s question that prompts an attempt at honesty. He’s not sure what role Levi plays in this happy little group, but he can clearly control Eren, and for that he has Jean’s respect. “I – I – I’m sorry that I interfered the last time. And I hate to think of-of someone being held against their-” He chooses that moment to glance at Eren, who is scowling ferociously at him. Instead of finishing his thought, Jean snaps, “Why am I willing to do this? Because it's the fastest way to get these assholes out of my house.”

“Hmm,” says Levi, giving him a considering look. All of the sudden, Jean is overcome with exhaustion. The high from his victory is spent. He’s made his case, it’s up to them to make a decision. He’s going to bed.

“My offer still stands. Let me know what you decide.”

He can’t help but give a small groan as he rises from the table (tomorrow is going to be very painful), and heads upstairs. He is already turned in the other direction, so he doesn’t see the small flicker of _something_ pass over Eren’s face.


	5. Stung

To Jean’s great surprise, they decide to move forward with his plan. Things move quickly after that. The first offensive will serve as a practice run, to see if they can actually pull it off. Jean will not be involved, as there won’t be any searching. Nor will Levi. He’s their ace in the hole, and they don’t want to reveal his presence prematurely. They will strike in the evening, when the campus is quietest. One of the lesser witches will be their target. Armin is firm that there is to be no bloodshed- if one of the witches dies, who knows what they will do to Mikasa.

Jean is told to keep out of the way, but he’s able to catch most of the action perched in a tree in the woods, using his grandfather’s binoculars. It’s a first-rate show. Jean is astonished. Eren is so graceful, like an elite gymnast, a dancer, a pilot, all rolled into one, the way he leaps and flips and twirls around the target. He repeatedly hurls a knife with startling accuracy. It must be an enchanted knife, because it always reappears in Eren’s grasp seconds after landing. It’s so well done, it’s impossible to tell that he's missing on purpose.

While Eren is remarkable, he is also facing an unusual enemy. It is only when Jean sees the magical bolts pass frighteningly close to Eren’s head that he realizes the obvious flaw in his plan. What if someone – in particular, Eren – gets hurt? What if he _dies_? 

No one else seems particularly worried about that possibility. Afterwards, when they're home, Eren is clearly flying high as a kite just to be doing something, taking action. Or maybe it's the thrill of the fight.

Jean joins them for dinner that night. Eren leans in over his plate and asks Jean boldly, a challenge in his voice, “So, what did you think?”

It was the most spectacular display of agility Jean has ever seen. But he’s never going to say _that_ to Eren. He can’t seem to come up with a suitably biting alternative, though, and has to settle with muttering feebly, “It was pretty cool. I guess.”

Eren gives him a strange look, and Jean takes a big mouthful of pasta so he doesn’t have to say anything else.

They plan the second attack for the next day, so as to not give the coven too much time to think about what’s happening. Although Armin wants to start the search at Reiss’s house – “fewer witches around” – Jean is adamant about looking in the office first. He’s not sure why he’s convinced, he just is, and he refuses to participate unless they do it his way. Armin eventually gives in. There isn’t a strong enough reason not to. Jean is given a photograph of Mikasa, and he's startled by her beauty. It makes him more determined than ever to help find her.

Jean is both exhilarated and terrified to find himself alone in Professor Reiss’s office. Oddly, it brings to mind being at sleepaway camp when he was a first-time counselor. One night, he had driven a group of the more adventurous boys over to the sister camp across the lake, and they had toilet-papered some of the girls’ cabins. He remembers the thrill of the planning, the muffled giggles as the rolls were thrown up onto the roof, the raucous cheers on the drive back home in the dark. Since Jean was the only counselor who had a car, the camp directors had known immediately that he was the culprit. He had not been invited back as a counselor the following summer.

The stakes are most assuredly higher this time around. Jean tries not to think about what will happen if he gets caught. In addition to the obviously detrimental affects of being hit with magical lightning bolts, he would prefer not to acquire a criminal record right before starting his job search in earnest; or, really, any time, for that manner.

He stands just past the office door, overwhelmed with the feeling that he is in treacherously deep water, and that he is very, very far from shore.

It’s a little late for second thoughts. He’s already in, nothing for it but to start swimming. He takes a deep breath and peers around the office. It is littered with silver: silver picture frames, small silver knickknacks, a silver ash tray, silver pens. It’s also a mess. The office may be booby trapped against vampires, but the human security seems to rely on the strategy of utter chaos rendering it impossible for a stranger to find anything.

Jean opens all the cabinets, skims his hands over the files. Nothing there as far as he can tell. He rummages carefully but thoroughly through the desk. His eyes rest briefly on a photograph of Reiss and a young woman with shining blonde hair and enormous blue eyes. He wonders idly if it’s Reiss’s daughter or his wife. Jean guesses wife. Reiss looks like the kind of guy who upgrades to a new model every few years. It’s while he’s looking at the photograph that there is a flicker in the corner of his left eye.

When he turns to his left to investigate, he can’t see anything. He moves his eyes back to the desk, but not to the photograph. He thinks it's probably not such a great idea to focus his attention too strongly on Reiss, not while he’s in his bloody office. Instead, he stares, as though mesmerized, at the scattered pens, the papers stacked haphazardly across the desk, the stapler standing on end. He’s staring so hard and not thinking at all about that shimmer in the corner of his eye; no, he’s not noticing anything, nothing at the edge of his vision. And…. _Gotcha!_

He almost can’t believe it. He was right! The totem is here! The knowledge fizzes through him. It’s a lock of black hair. It _must_ be Mikasa’s. He’s certain of it. The air immediately surrounding it is shimmering, as though cast in a web of light, and there are symbols woven into a complex pattern within the light. He is very careful not to step too close or disturb the arrangement in any way. Taking out his phone, careful to keep his attention fixed on the desk, he snaps picture after picture, reaching around to capture it from every angle. He hopes he’s getting it all.

He's stashing his phone back in his pocket when he hears voices outside the door. It’s way too early. He’s only been in here about ten minutes. The confrontation should still be in full swing. But those are definitely voices. He drops under the desk. It’s a ridiculous hiding place. Anyone walking into the office will notice him.

They must be right outside the door, because he can understand what they’re saying.

“They’re getting desperate.”

“But to attack us in the middle of the day? Right in our stronghold? Wait! What’s that? The fire alarm? Here? In the _library_?” The sound of pounding feet, getting fainter.

Jean lets out a breath. He waits a full minute, and the voices don’t come back. Now it’s just the blare of the fire alarm. He slips out the door. He walks briskly down the hall. He’s almost made it to the end when someone barks out, “Stop! Who are you! What are you doing here?”

Jean pretends he hasn't noticed, merely picking up the pace. 

“You! Stop or I’ll shoot!”

He’ll _shoot??!_ Is college security now armed? With _guns_? Jeez, things have changed since Jean was in school.

Since there’s no point in pretending anymore, he starts running down the hall, weaving back and forth like he’s seen action stars (or, more likely, their stunt doubles) do in movies. He feels stupid, doesn’t even know if it’s an effective maneuver, but he can’t think what else to do, and he sure as heck doesn't want to be shot. He yanks open the door and gallops down the stairs like his life depends on it. His life _does_ depend on it.

One of the benefits of a rural campus is that you’re never too far from the woods. He’s out the back door and running as fast as he can across the small strip of grass, when something zings past him. He vaguely feels a pinch in his arm. He puts an extra burst of speed and is through the gate and running like hell back to the meetup spot.

He’s almost there when he has to stop. He has a stitch in his side, and he’s heaving in great gasps of air. Trying to slow his breathing, he moves forward as quietly as he can. He thankfully doesn’t hear anyone crashing through the woods behind him. What the hell happened with Eren and Armin? Will they even be at the car?

It’s an enormous relief to hear their voices, even before he sees them.

“Where is he? Shit! It wasn’t enough time. It was lucky we even managed to get that smoke bomb inside. But what if he got caught?” It’s Eren.

“Jean is a smart, capable guy,” Armin responds calmly. While Jean is gratified by this vote of confidence, Armin is being a little too blasé about his safety for Jean’s taste. You have to be more than smart and capable to escape from armed guards.

Eren, not surprisingly, has less faith in Jean’s abilities. “I’m going back to check on him.”

“No.” Armin is firm. “We’ll wait ten more minutes. If he’s not here by then, _I’ll_ go. If you show your face again, they’ll decimate you.”

“But what if they got him? They won’t hesitate to kill him. Or, at the very least, hurt him.” Is that _Eren_ sounding so worried about Jean’s welfare?

Jean doesn't stop to think more about this. He pants out a hushed greeting. The three of them stumble into the car and are driving sedately in the other direction when the fire truck, siren screeching, passes them.

The drive home is tense, and no one talks. Eren and Armin are up front. Jean sits in the back, scanning through the pictures. The images are pretty good. There are symbols all around the lock of hair, and he thinks he’s gotten views of the whole thing. They are back home quickly, and it’s only when he tumbles out of the car that he notices the blood.

“What happened?” Eren demands.

“He _shot_ me!” Jean says incredulously. He can hardly believe it. That fucker!

Eren is already opening up his pack, pulling out medical supplies. He slips on a pair of gloves before dragging Jean into the barn and holding his arm over the sink.

“Ow! Get the fuck off me, Jaeger!” Jean snaps, pushing at Eren with his good elbow.

“This needs to be washed out right away,” says Eren evenly, not letting go. “There could be poison in it.”

“Poison?” Jean is taken aback. Once again, he has the feeling of being in very deep water. Since when does college security use _poisoned bullets_?

Eren whips out a pair of scissors and deftly cuts Jean’s shirt away from his arm.

“Hey!” says Jean.

“Sorry,” says Eren absently, clearly not meaning it. He runs a professional eye across the wound.

“Hmmm. Looks like it's just a graze, no bullets to extract. Seems fairly superficial.” He leans in and sniffs.

“Ew!” says Jean. “Get away.”

Eren ignores him, his grip firm on Jean’s arm. “I don’t think there’s any poison, either. You were quite lucky.”

“Yeah, right,” grumbles Jean. “Lucky.” But he has to agree. If the bullet had landed only a few inches to the side, he would have been in a very different situation right now.

“We’ll let it bleed out a bit more, just to be sure. You don’t need stitches, which is good. Not sure how we’d explain this one at the hospital.”

Jean turns his face away from the sight of blood dripping sluggishly down his arm. He bites down against the dizziness. Eren is right up against him, gently squeezing the arm over the sink. It stings, but not too badly. Eren's fluffy mass of hair is just below Jean's face. He finds himself wondering idly what it would feel like under his fingers. _I must be going into shock_ , he thinks.

“We can wash it now,” says Eren, uncapping a bottle of clear liquid. It's cold, but after the initial shock it’s not too bad. Despite himself, Jean is impressed with Eren’s gentle efficiency. He doesn’t think anything of it when Eren next pulls out a small spray bottle and liberally sprays the wound. This, however, stings like crazy.

“Shit!” Jean cries out. “Warn me before you do something like that!”

“If I had warned you, you wouldn’t have let me do it. It will start to go numb in a second.”

Eren is correct. After the initial pain, a soothing numbness spreads over Jean’s arm. Eren sticks clean gauze on the wound, and carefully wraps it up in an elastic bandage, firm but not too tight. He plunks Jean’s other hand on top of the bandage.

“Keep steady pressure on that for a few minutes. And take it easy with that arm for the next few days.”

“Yes, sir,” Jean mock salutes. Then he remembers that Eren has just done an excellent job of cleaning and dressing his wound. He adds a belated, “Thanks, Jaeger.”

No one else has any injuries. They can talk business now.

“Sorry it wasn’t enough time,” Armin starts in. “There were at least ten of them, and we didn’t stand a chance. Eren was incredibly lucky to land the smoke bomb. You did a great job getting out of there on short notice. Thanks for trying.” Jean realizes that Armin assumes he was unsuccessful. He briefly considers messing with them, pretending he didn’t find anything, but he just can’t do it. He’s too excited. He grins like a shark.

“I found it!”

“You found what?” asks Armin cautiously. Instead of saying anything more, Jean unlocks his phone and hands it over. He tries not to hover excitedly as Eren and Armin peer at the small screen, but he can't help babbling.

"It was cleverly hidden. I couldn’t see it if I looked head-on, but I could just catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye. It was a bit hard to take the pictures without looking at it directly, so I hope that I got enough shots?” It’s a question, because their prolonged silence is making him increasingly uncertain.

Eren speaks first, his voice hoarse with excitement.

“That’s it! Isn’t it? _Isn’t it,_ Armin?” He doesn’t wait for Armin to answer. He looks right at Jean. His green eyes are shining. Jean grins wildly back at him. It’s an incredible feeling, that he did this. That they did this together. Eren is almost trembling with excitement.

“Kirstein! You did it! You _did_ it! I could kiss you! Now we can find her!”

Jean’s eyes widen. It’s a shock to his entire system, because, at these casual words, flippant even, the response thrumming through him is not, “ _Fuck off!”_ Instead, gripping him sharply, almost painfully, is the wild, clamoring feeling that _l could kiss you, too_. And, _Why don’t you_? And, _Please_. And, _Right now_.

He recoils as if stung. He _has_ been stung. He stares at the ground, blinking wildly. What the fuck??! He _hates_ Eren. He hates Eren’s nasty personality, Eren’s messy hair, his smooth, cool skin, his crazy-ass strength, those feral, green eyes… _Shit_!

Somewhere along the way his hate has morphed into something else. It’s a startling and unpleasant revelation. His heart is pounding, harder even than when he was in Reiss’s office. He glances up briefly, notes with relief that Eren is too busy exulting to have paid attention to Jean's reaction. He’s not so sure about the measured look that Armin gives him, though.


	6. Dinner

In order to put the coven off the scent, Eren and Armin keep up almost daily offensive attacks. The don’t want the witches to know that they’ve already achieved their objective. They play it much safer, though, keeping their distance, using plenty of smoke bombs and other long-range tools. Armin even has the brilliant idea of offering a formal negotiation. That should hopefully buy them enough time to the next full moon, when they can go in for the rescue. This will also give Armin adequate time to study the symbols and forge appropriate counter measures.

Jean has been dealing with his newly discovered feelings with great maturity: that is, by avoiding them, and Eren, altogether. This morning, however, Eren has ambushed him by coming into the kitchen while Jean is still eating breakfast. Jean hurriedly shovels in the rest of his food and is hastily washing out his bowl when Eren asks, “Would it be okay if we had some people over for dinner on Friday?”

Jean keeps his back turned. He is glad his voice is level as he responds, “Of course. I’ll keep out of your way."

“I didn’t mean it like that,” says Eren. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“Oh,” says Jean. He turns the water off, his body on high alert.

“What I meant is, will it bother you if they’re here?”

There’s something in the tentativeness of Eren’s request that spurs Jean to want to build on this fragile peace they now have, contribute to it. It doesn’t have to lead anywhere. It would never lead anywhere. But maybe they could be… cordial? Friendly? Yeah. It might be nice to be friends with Eren. That should be enough for Jean. In fact, it's the perfect solution all around. With that meddlesome problem dealt with, Jean can relax. He turns around.

“Of course it won’t bother me. You’re living here, right? You’re allowed to have a social life, Jaeger.”

“Thanks,” says Eren. He has a surprised look on his face. “That’s nice of you.”

“I’m actually a reasonable human being,” Jean says, with a wry grin. “Some of the time.”

“Yeah… uh… about that,” says Eren. “I’m sorry I was so angry that first night. I was pretty upset, and-“

Jean cuts him off. “No problem. I understand you were under a lot of stress. I’m seriously sorry about your sister, and any part I played in delaying her rescue.”

A shadow darkens Eren’s face. That pain is still there, hovering under the surface.

“It’s okay. Now that we have the totem – thanks to you, that is – “ he says, a little breathlessly, “we have a shot at success. Actually, that’s why we’re having people over. More of our team. They’re mostly busy fighting on other fronts, but a few of them can make it here on Friday. To help us iron out some of the rescue details. We’ll have our meeting in the barn, then food after.”

Jean nods automatically, but he's wondering what exactly _more of the team_ means.

“Do you have any dinner requests? Armin’s cooking, because I"m pretty hopeless in the kitchen.”

“Me too,” says Jean. He has an idea. “I could pick up dessert? There’s a great bakery downtown, on Spring Street - "

“Cecile’s?”

“Yeah, exactly! We always used to go there when I was a kid. I saw it was still open, and I’ve been meaning to go back. They used to have the best pies.”

“That would be great!"

“I can get ice cream, too.”

“Perfect,” says Eren. He’s smiling, a genuine, relaxed, friendly smile. Jean thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen that kind of smile on Eren’s face. It does something funny to him. Inside. Like he can't catch his breath. _Shit. Friends. Hah._ Not so dealt with, after all.

Jean chickens out and doesn’t come home on Friday until he thinks dinner will be over. He’ll say a brief hello, and then retreat up to his room.

Eren, of course, foils this plan.

“Kirstein! Sorry you missed dinner. The pie was fantastic! Come join us,” he calls out loudly, beckoning Jean towards the couch. He pats the available seat by his side.

“Jean Kirstein, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Jean Kirstein. Our lovely host.”

There is a chorus of “hello”s and “thank you”s, and Jean ducks his head, embarrassed. _Lovely?_! Also, he hasn’t done a lot of socializing since he’s been up here; well, none, really, and he feels rusty.

But he’s been caught, so he slides onto the couch. It's just to be civil, he tells himself. It's not that he wants to sit next to Eren or anything like that.

The atmosphere is optimistic, festive even. It must have been a productive meeting. Eren is in a very good mood. It's not long before he has his ankle on his knee, his foot tapping an occasional beat against Jean’s thigh. His arm is stretched along the back of the couch, almost touching Jean's shoulder.

To take his mind off Eren's proximity, Jean leans towards the woman sitting next to the couch. Dr. Hange Zoe, as he learns. He’s quickly drawn into conversation with her. Her work is fascinating: quite complex, but from the big-picture perspective seems to be an investigation into the physical manifestations of psychological phenomena, within a supernatural context. Before he knows it, Jean is actually having a good time. He’s even kind of disappointed when the evening winds to a close.

“Your friends are nice,” says Jean, picking up the last of the glasses from the living room. Armin is cleaning up the kitchen.

“You sound surprised,” says Eren; a fleeting grin takes the sting out of the words.

“I guess I didn’t know what to expect. If they would be…” the words drift off.

“Vampires?”

“Yeah,” says Jean, blushing.

“Nah, these were the human ones.”

“Well, it was a nice evening.”

“There are a couple of things we didn't get to. They’ll be back to finish up tomorrow afternoon. Is dinner OK again tomorrow night?”

“Of course,” says Jean. “You don’t need to ask.” He wouldn’t mind talking with Dr. Zoe some more. She really got him thinking. With Eren directly in front of him, he finds himself wondering which parts of Eren’s psyche are more vampire, and which are more human, and how each part has informed his physical presence. Eren obviously has vampire speed and strength, but what about other things? Is Eren's skin cold because he's a vampire, or is he just a relatively cold but still normal human temperature? That starts him thinking vaguely about what it would be like to touch the cool, golden skin of Eren’s cheek, and whether Eren’s lips are also relatively cold, and his mouth, and… and…

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until Eren clears his throat and says, pointedly, “I asked if you want me to take those glasses?”

“Oh! Sorry,” says Jean, blushing and tearing his eyes away from Eren’s mouth. “Just thinking about something Dr. Zoe was saying. That would be great. I’m pretty beat. G’night, Jaeger. Thanks again for inviting me.”

“Good night, Kirstein,” says Eren. His eyes follow Jean as he walks away.

Jean spends most of Saturday sifting through more of the attic. He doesn't have much vacation time left, and he'd like to get the job done before he leaves. He’s about ready to pack it in when he finds the letter. He almost throws it out, he’s so sick of every last little piece of garbage his grandfather has stored up here, but when he smooths it out, his breath catches. It’s ripped, so he only sees the bottom half, but that’s enough:

_simply cannot fathom how you could have been so irresponsible as to risk Jean’s life in this manner. He will not return to your home. You will have no further contact with him. I refuse to allow him to grow up under the circumstances in which I did._

_Clara_

His mother's well-known signature, transformed into an angry scrawl. Jean stares at the paper. It was clearly sent to his grandfather. What on earth could it mean? The problem is, he can’t ask her directly. He’s tried, in the past, to talk about his grandfather with her, and she shuts up like a clam. But what could she have been talking about? Risk his life? He puts it aside. A puzzle for later.

As he makes his way down the stairs, he wonders where Eren’s guests are. It’s well past dinner time, and the house is deathly silent.

They're nowhere inside. Jean decides to hunt around a bit; he's in the mood for company tonight. When he opens the barn door, the buzz of conversation, mixed in with music, drifts out across the yard. They're scattered all around the barn, plates on their laps, having dinner out here instead of in the house. Jean feels a prickle of hurt. It's stupid, he knows, but he can't quite suppress the thought that they didn’t come into the house because no one wanted to be around _him_. He doesn't mean for his voice to sound quite so accusing when he calls out to Eren, “Why are you having dinner in the barn, Jaeger?”

“Can we go into the house now?” someone calls out. Jean isn’t sure who asked the question, it came from the huddle of bodies on the couch. There are a few new bodies, it seems, and to Jean they're like one large swarm. “Eren said you were busy, but you look free, now, and it’s so much more comfortable in there," the voice adds in a whine.

“Of course you can all come in,” says Jean automatically, before he catches Eren’s frown, his head shaking an urgent _No_. But it’s too late, they’re all getting up, plates in hand, trooping towards the comfort of the house. 

Jean ends up on the couch again, seated next to Eren. It’s different, though. Eren is definitely on edge. There’s also a buzzing undercurrent of something, Jean can’t quite catch it, almost _predatory_ in the air. He feels like someone is watching him, although no one appears to be.

He finds himself shifting almost imperceptibly closer to Eren. Eren, evidently picking up on the movement, brings his fingers forward until they are resting lightly on Jean’s shoulder. He gives Jean a quick squeeze and lets go. Jean does his best to not sink into the contact, tries to pull away from it, even. But he can’t help but notice that the threatening heaviness almost immediately recedes with Eren’s touch.

It’s still there, if muted, so not too much later, Jean mumbles something and rises to his feet. He has no obligation to stay, after all. He'll grab a quick bite to eat and get to bed.

As he swings the kitchen door open, he realizes that there are people already there. It’s the two new guys, one blonde and muscular, the other quite tall. They seem to be having an argument, speaking in heated undertones. They stop whispering as soon as they see Jean.

He only barely catches a quick flash of something passing between them, like a spark. The blonde guy – Robert? Ryker? - breaks into a wide grin, and motions Jean in.

“Ah, our lovely host. Come in, come in.” Jean obediently steps forward.

“Can I help you? Robert, was it?” he asks in what he hopes is a frosty enough tone that they get the hint that they're not welcome in the kitchen.

“Reiner,” says the guy, and “Bertoldt,” nodding at the other guy. “Yes, actually. We were both a little thirsty. Please excuse us for sneaking into your kitchen to forage.” Reiner's smile is charmingly apologetic, which makes Jean feel guilty for wishing them gone. This, coupled with his sense of obligation towards any guests in his house, prompts him to act the host. 

“You want something to drink?” he asks solicitously.

“Yes!” Reiner says, seemingly delighted that Jean has cottoned on so quickly. “That is exactly what I was hoping to find.”

Jean is a little puzzled by Reiner’s choice of words, but he obligingly walks over and opens the fridge door. 

“Let’s see. What would you like? We have a few beers here, the wine," He pauses, thinking. “There might be some vodka in the cabinet – “

When Jean turns to see if Reiner wants him to try to dig out the vodka, he’s surprised to find Reiner so close, pressed right up against the other side of the fridge door. Jean can barely see around him to Bertholdt, who has his back to both of them, shoulders stiff. It almost looks like Bertholdt is standing guard. Jean’s uneasiness deepens, and he shuts the fridge door. He’s going to get the hell out of the kitchen; he's not that hungry after all. But as soon as the door is no longer separating them, Reiner closes in, backing Jean into the corner. Jean looks up at Reiner in surprise, and that turns out to be a mistake.

It’s a mistake because suddenly he can't move. His feet are planted solidly on the ground, his arms are frozen at his sides, and his face is turned up to Reiner’s. He’s staring straight into Reiner’s eyes, and he can’t move a damn muscle.


	7. Frozen

Jean panics. He’s sure the panic must show in his eyes, and then he’s revolted to see that Reiner _likes_ that Jean is panicking, that Reiner's eyes are flashing red and black with excitement at the sight of it. Reiner is _turned on_ by the fact that Jean’s limbs are frozen, that Jean can’t even speak. That all Jean can do is listen to his own terrified breathing as Reiner rakes his eyes up and down Jean’s immobilized body, finally settling eagerly on Jean’s long, white neck. 

Jean concentrates. Where is that strength he felt before? Back, when he was fighting with Eren? With a flash of certainty, he knows it resides somewhere in this house, strongest in this kitchen. If he can just focus, he’ll be able to draw on it in a real way. He knows that strength is more than up to the task of taking on Reiner. That strength chews people like Reiner up and spits them out. Jean just doesn’t know how to harness it properly, dammit! He’s never felt so frustratingly helpless, angry, and, most of all, frightened, all at the same time. He also finds himself dumbly outraged that mere seconds earlier he was playing host to this fucker, trying to find him a drink!

"Hurry up," Bertholdt says urgently.

"Almost ready," purrs Reiner. His voice is thick with desire. His eyes trained on Jean's, he lets out a low, excited moan. His fingers reach up, brush against Jean's jaw, trail down Jean's neck. His touch burns, and Jean can't flinch backwards, can't bat those muscular fingers away, _can't run._ He can't even fucking close his eyes against the horrible sight. Jean refuses to give in, though, continuing to fight against the paralysis. He feels like he's going to burst a blood vessel with the strain of it, yet his efforts are wholly in vain. The only result is the visible increase in Reiner's arousal. He smiles lecherously and licks his lips. If Jean had half a brain, he would stop struggling; his useless efforts are clearly only playing into Reiner's desires. He can't stop himself from fighting, though.

Jean vaguely hears the door with its telltale whoosh open, and someone ask, “Is Kirstein in here?” It’s Eren! _Now!_ Now is his chance! Using whatever little bit of strength he can scrape out of the kitchen, bending it to his will with something he didn't know he even had, Jean drives air out of his lungs a little faster, forces his throat to shape the air into a grunt, even as he hears Bertholdt say, “Nope. Haven’t seen him.”

There is a brief scuffling sound, a gasp, and the next moment Reiner is bent over. As soon as Reiner’s eyes break contact with his, Jean finds he can move again. He staggers backwards against the fridge, his legs like jelly. Eren reaches in and grabs Jean, pulls him roughly out from beneath Reiner. Now Eren is between Reiner and Jean.

“Back off,” says Eren to Reiner, in a low, dangerous voice.

“How was I to know he was yours?” Reiner wheezes. “He doesn’t have any marks!”

“Well, now you know,” says Eren rigidly, his hand firmly on Jean. “He _is_ mine. And I _never_ share.” Jean just has time to notice that Bertoldt is bent double on the ground before Eren pushes him towards the exit.

“Stupid human,” he hears Reiner mutter, as the door shuts behind them. “Playing vampire.”

Eren marches Jean down the hall. He murmurs something to Armin as they pass him. Armin immediately pulls out the little silver gun, the same one he used to shoot Eren. He moves quickly towards the kitchen door as Eren shepherds Jean upstairs.

By the time they reach his room, Jean is able, just barely, to speak again.

“ _Yours_?” he gasps. “You _never share_? I'm n-not your f-f-f-ucking _pet_ , Jaeger!” However, there is less bite to the words than he would have liked. Hardly any bite, in fact. And plenty of tremble.

“It’s the only language they understand,” Eren answers dismissively. He is clenching Jean’s shirt so tightly his fingers are white. Fury is radiating off of him in shimmering waves, and his eyes are dark. Eren’s rage only serves to amplify Jean’s fear. He flinches backwards. Eren takes a deep breath and visibly relaxes his hold, loosening his fingers one by one. Released, Jean leans against the wall, desperately trying to catch his breath. He can't quite believe he's out from under Reiner's hold.

“Hey,” Eren says in a voice which he plainly means to be heartening but which is still bristling with anger. “It’s OK. They’ll leave you alone now.”

Jean isn’t so sure it’s OK. If only he could stop shaking. He tries to formulate a witty comeback, about how Reiner’s the one who should be worried, but the words die in his throat. All he can see in front of him are Reiner’s red/black eyes, bearing down on him relentlessly.

Eren can tell Jean is losing it; he puts a light hand on Jean’s arm.

“Are you all right?” His voice is much calmer, which helps.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” Jean says, even though it’s not true. He’s nowhere near all right. He still has no control over his shuddering body.

“Do you want to go somewhere else for the night? Is there a friend you could stay with?” There is a look of deep concern on Eren's face.

“What? No!” says Jean. He doesn’t want to be roaming around in the dark with Reiner and Bertholdt out there. He takes several deep breaths in and out, trying to slow his breathing.

“Would it help if I stayed in here with you, then?” asks Eren, in an offhand manner, as though he assumes Jean will say no to such a silly offer. “I mean, on the chair? As an extra layer of protection?”

Jean wants to say _No, of course not. I don’t need protection. Especially not your protection_. But then he sees Reiner right up against him, his implacable bulk blocking out the light, and feels again the strength of Eren’s arm as he yanked Jean to safety.

“Yes,” he finds himself whispering. “Yes, it would help. If you really don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” says Eren, right away. “I’ll get my stuff.”

“I’ll come with you,” says Jean, shivering harder at the thought of being left alone.

Eren gives him another look but steps aside so Jean can lead the way. Jean is relieved that he doesn’t cling to Eren, although, truth be told, he’s feeling exceedingly clingy right now.

He thinks that probably tomorrow his fear will look ridiculous, way overblown, but right now he is still in it, and the night is very dark.

“Thanks again,” Jean mumbles when they are both changed and ready for bed. He is relieved to hear his voice sounding reasonably close to a normal mumble.

“It’s okay,” says Eren. “I don’t really trust them either. Reiner was looking very hungry. And now they’ve been invited into your house. Sorry for allowing that to happen." He looks both troubled and guilty. “I certainly wouldn’t have planned a dinner in your house if I had known they’d be here. They weren’t supposed to come. But apparently the vampires have gotten wind of what’s going on, and they’re always sticking their fangs where they don't belong."

“I'm immensely grateful to you for rescuing me," Jean says solemnly. He's too rattled and thankful to be anything other than honest right now.

Eren shrugs off the thanks and starts unrolling his sleeping bag onto the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, the floor is much better for me than the chair. If I put it here, I’ll definitely catch anything that tries to make its way into the room.

“I mean, there’s no reason for you not to sleep in the bed,” says Jean. “It’s huge. And way more comfortable than the floor. If you want.”

“Oh,” says Eren. “Um. OK, then.”

Jean is staring at his book, re-reading the same sentence over and over. Eren has grabbed a mystery from the bookshelf. It feels weirdly domestic, the two of them side by side in this giant bed, like they’re some old married couple. Jean doesn’t really understand how the world has turned so completely on its axis that Savage Vampire Eren Jaeger is here comforting him. That in truth Eren is the only person he trusts to help with this particular situation. But he’s too thankful to question it much, too appreciative of the mundane normality of the setting. He is eventually recovered enough to roll on his side and ask the question that’s been eating at him.

“What was Reiner going to do to me?”

Eren puts his book down on his chest and looks at Jean. The anger flares briefly in his eyes and the lines on his face harden. But his voice is composed when he says, “I don’t know for certain, of course. But it was pretty tense in there. They would likely have moved you quickly out of the house, so Reiner could feed uninterrupted. Bertholdt would have probably jumped in, too, from the look of things. They might have just played around with you for a bit then let you go. Alternatively, they might have forced you to drink their blood, and turned you. If they took enough of your blood without giving you any in return, you would have probably had a massive heart attack, or a stroke, and died. And, of course, there is always the possibility of a sexual component. The two often go hand in hand for vampires.”

“Oh,” says Jean. He rolls onto his back. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to ask Eren that question right now. His answer isn't really a surprise, it's just a bit much hearing it all laid out like that. He feels nauseated. He doesn’t want to be a vampire. And the thought of both Reiner and Bertholdt sucking on him, or doing other things, against his will, is a chilling one. He closes his eyes but immediately opens them again. Reiner’s leering, aroused face is imprinted on the backs of his eyelids.

Eren can obviously sense the gist of Jean’s thoughts. He scoots over until he is right up against Jean. He wiggles an arm under Jean’s back, pulling Jean half on top of him. “It’s not gonna happen now,” he says reassuringly into Jean’s hair. “Neither of them will ever try to touch you again.” Jean can feel the vibrations in Eren’s chest at the same time he hears the words.

“I couldn’t move,” Jean whispers. With Eren holding him like this, his face buried in Eren’s neck, he feels safe enough to get the words out. “I was trying as hard as I could, and it made no difference. It was _exciting_ to that fucker, that he could have done whatever he wanted to me. He _would have_ done whatever he wanted to me. If you hadn’t come.” He puts his hand over his eyes. This is the hardest part for him to grasp, that he was not able to lift a finger to defend himself. Eren draws in a sharp breath, and his arm tightens around Jean. There is a moment of silence, and Jean feels the muscles deliberately relax. Eren's voice is rough around the edges when he finally speaks.

“That’s a fairly common trauma response.Vampires are able to induce it. Were you looking in his eyes?”

Jean nods blindly.

“It’s likely that he was provoking that reaction, essentially hypnotizing you into passivity. He would have made it physically impossible for you to move. The fact that you were fighting him, that you could make any sound at all under those circumstances, is remarkable.” 

While this information doesn’t erase the fear, there is something reassuring about having an explanation for what happened.

Eren lifts the hand that is not curled around Jean. He hesitates briefly, then lays it down awkwardly on Jean’s head. He rests it there for a moment, then smooths a trail down the middle of Jean’s back. Once he’s done, he repeats the movement.

“Are you fucking _petting_ me, Jaeger?” asks Jean. "Didn't you hear what I said before?" He tries to sound outraged, but even to his own ears he sounds weak and pathetic. 

Eren immediately lifts his hand. “Sorry!” he says. “I thought – sometimes–“

“That-that’s okay. It’s nice. You-you can keep doing it.”

The hand comes back. Long, smooth strokes, from the crown of Jean’s head down the length of his back, over and over again. It’s very soothing. Jean feels himself relaxing again.

“Thanks,” he whispers drowsily to Eren.

“Hmmm,” grunts Eren. Jean feels a brief, light pressure on his head; he thinks Eren may have kissed him. He’s too shattered to really take it in; he only appreciates the comfort and security of it. He wraps his arm tightly around Eren. Eventually, he’s able to fall asleep. He has no dreams that night, or, at least, none that he remembers.


	8. Shiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of fluffy fun before things go to hell

Jean wakes up alone. His gut curls at the memory of Reiner looming over him until the daylight streaming in through the window blows the fear away, or at least back. Unfortunately, once he’s calmed down, he also remembers what followed. How humiliating that he was rescued, like a damsel in distress, by _Eren Jaeger_ of all people; then _fell asleep_ in his fucking arms! Jean groans just thinking about it. He has no idea what he’s going to say to Eren when he sees him. The best strategy he can think of is to avoid him as long as possible and hope that he’ll be able to come up with something on the spur of the moment that both expresses his gratitude and preserves his dignity (which he knows to be an impossibility). The little etiquette he learned at Miss Covington’s in sixth grade isn’t helping him here – for some reason it didn’t cover the appropriate way to thank someone who's rescued you from an attempted assault. His task is further complicated by the fact that he really, really, really doesn’t want to be alone in the dark tonight.

Eren, irritating bastard that he is, immediately foils Jean’s ostrich strategy. He is in the kitchen staring out the window, nervously tapping his fingers on the table. He is obviously waiting for Jean, because his head whips around as Jean walks in, too fast for Jean to back out silently and pretend he was never there.

He blurts out, “Armin could teach you some spells.”

It’s so unexpected that Jean stops trying to frantically think up a witty greeting and instead asks, “What?”

“Some humans can do very simple spells. Protective ones, especially. You know, with garlic, or even a few rudimentary silver spells, that sort of thing.” Eren waves his hand vaguely in the air.

“Does that stuff work?”

“Well, you’ve seen what spelled silver does to me. Garlic spells can also be effective, to a lesser extent. They won’t protect against a full-strength hypnosis, but the element of surprise might buy you enough time to escape.”

Jean wonders why he didn’t think of this himself, at least the silver part. It’s like a breath of fresh air, the idea that he could manufacture his own protection against Reiner. While it doesn’t completely drown out the fear, it opens up a window of possibility that feels like a new chance at freedom. Muscles that he didn't even realize were tense start to relax.

Eren’s face splits into a wide grin at Jean’s obvious relief. But then he ruins it by saying, “It’s a good idea. Seeing as there may not always be a brave, strong, handsome Prince Charming around to rescue you.”

“By that do you mean, perhaps, _yourself_ , Mr. Savage Vampire?”

“The one and only,” says Eren, and Jean can tell that while he’s partly laughing at himself, he also partly means it.

“In your dreams, ” says Jean, swatting at him. But he’s relieved. If that’s the worst he’s going to get, it’s not too bad. Especially since Jean knows it's all true.

Eren smiles sunnily. He's practically oozing good cheer.

“You’re awfully chipper this morning,” grumbles Jean, in a lame attempt to quell the buoyant feelings now threatening to blossom out of his chest.

“That is an amazing bed! I slept fantastically well.” It _is_ a really nice bed. Jean appreciates Eren's tact in not mentioning the needily clinging figure who came with the bed.

“Is the one you’ve been sleeping in so terrible?”

“Um, not _too_ bad,” says Eren carefully.

Jean laughs. “I should probably replace it, if it’s that awful.” He's getting the cereal down from the cupboard, so his back is to Eren when he adds, “Or – my bed is so big, I mean, I’m fine with sharing it. If – if _you_ are, that is. I- I also slept really well.” He pours the milk very slowly into his cereal, so he doesn’t have to turn around right away. He hopes the back of his neck isn’t red.

But he needn’t have worried. Eren merely lets out an airy, “Sure. My back would definitely appreciate it."

“OK, then,” says Jean cheerfully. And it’s settled.

Even with the new sleeping arrangements, Jean doesn’t see much more of Eren. Turns out Eren gets up at the crack of dawn and goes to bed way earlier than Jean. (Jean sees this as his human side trying desperately to assert dominance over his vampire side). He’s always asleep by the time Jean comes into bed. Jean buys a head lamp and small blanket so he can burrow under it to read at night, so he doesn’t wake him up. 

It’s a huge comfort to have Eren there. Jean’s not sure he would be able to sleep at all without his reassuring presence. Not even if he scattered garlic all over the room, what with the darkness leaking in through the windows, and the fact that no one knows where Reiner and Bertholdt have gotten to. He’s especially grateful when he starts waking up in the middle of every night from what becomes a recurring nightmare of Reiner’s eyes expanding until they engulf him. Jean doesn’t think he wakes Eren up when he curls into his side, or clutches his arm. He hopes not. He wants Eren to keep getting a fantastic night's sleep. So that he'll stay. 

It’s also helping Jean’s peace of mind that Armin has started to take Jean through some basic spells. The spell primer he gives Jean looks remarkably like a cookbook; that is, a beginner cookbook for seven-year olds. Jean tries not to be offended; he _is_ a novice, after all.

“This one is very simple,” Armin says in his calm voice. “You press the garlic like so, add seven drops of holy water, then steep it for at least an hour. Do you see?”

Jean nods.

“Here, you give it a try. Yeah. Like that. Great. Now it goes in the sun for an hour. For future reference, if you don’t have any holy water, you can use distilled water instead, although the spell will be significantly less potent. Once it’s steeped, we’ll say this spell.” He points to what looks like a very simple poem on the second page of the book.

They reconvene an hour later to say the spell. Jean feels ridiculous, reading from the little book as he stands over the garlic.

"How can this possibly do anything to vampires?” Jean asks, once they’re done. It’s hard to believe.

“It’s not that harmful, but it’s very annoying to them. If you put any on your skin, make sure you wash it off before you go to bed, yeah?”

“Why?” asks Jean. He can smell it a little, but the scent is quite delicate, only a faint whiff in the air.

“Trust me on this one.”

“Okay,” says Jean. 

But he decides to give it a test drive anyway.

Eren is at the kitchen table, eating an apple and writing in a small notebook when Jean walks in. The effect is instantaneous. 

He grimaces, dropping the pen and apple and immediately pinching his nose.

“What’s that _smell_?" Wow. Jean is surprised. He takes a few steps closer to Eren.

“Yuck! Get away,” says Eren, shooing him away. “You _stink_!” He hasn’t let go of his nose, so his voice sounds very nasal.

Jean gives him a quizzical look.

“Can’t you smell it? It’s _ghastly_!”

“I don’t really smell it, no,” says Jean. Truth to tell, he's having fun watching Eren squirm, the adorable way his face is scrunched up.

As Jean takes another step closer, Eren shoots out of his chair, scrambling away from Jean.

“So this is brave, strong, handsome Prince Charming?” inquires Jean casually. “Ready to fend off the smelliest of villains?”

Eren is now backed into the corner, looking faintly green around the gills, although he’s also kind of laughing at Jean. It's pretty funny, until all of the sudden Jean is reminded uncomfortably of Reiner trapping him in a corner in much the same way. He jumps back.

“I’m sorry!” he says. “Christ! I’m sorry.” Why the hell would he think doing that would be funny?

With Jean further away from him, Eren already looks less green. He gives Jean a funny look.

“It’s OK, Kirstein, it can't really hurt me. It just _reeks_.”

Jean takes a very long, very hot, shower, giving himself a thorough scrubbing. Once he’s dressed, he gallops down the stairs. Eren is still in the kitchen although he’s opened all the windows, and he hasn’t started eating his apple again.

“I really am sorry,” he pants out apologetically to Eren.

“Calm down,” says Eren. “It’s all right.” His gaze flicks up to Jean’s forehead. 

“I felt like I was like… Reiner. Trapping you in a corner.”

Eren looks confused. “It wasn’t anything like that, Kirstein. it was just a little bit of teasing. Seriously. Don’t worry about it.” His eyes drift upwards again.

Jean narrows his eyes. “Why do you keep looking at my forehead?” He reaches up a hand to brush it. “Is there something on it?”

Eren blushes. “No, it’s… uh… your… ah… hair.”

“Oh, right. My stupid hair.” He glowers. “ _That_ I can’t do anything about.”

Eren looks embarrassed. “It’s not really stupid. It’s just that it’s… uh… so … _shiny_."

Jean frowns. Is Eren making fun of him? Trying to get back at him?

“Yeah. I just washed it, idiot. Because of the garlic. Remember? Hair that's just been washed is shiny.”

Eren can’t seem to keep his eyes off of Jean’s forehead. It’s like he’s mesmerized. If Eren is pretending, he’s a much better actor than Jean has given him credit for.

“But how do you get it so… shimmery?”

What the hell? _Shimmery?_

“Uh. Shampoo?” says Jean. Maybe Eren _is_ an idiot, after all.

“It’s not dyed? To make it all shiny golden like that on the top and brown underneath?”

Jean snorts. “ _Dyed?_ No, it’s not dyed, you moron.”

Eren looks like he doesn’t believe him.

Jean shakes his head. “For Christ’s sake, it’s the same hair I've had since I've been here!”

“But now it’s all wet and – and _glistening._ ”

Jean shakes his head. “It’s just _hair_ , Jaeger.”

But, to make up for being a jerk about the garlic, Jean says, “You can touch it if you want.” He bends his head down to show that it’s a genuine offer.

Eren’s eyebrows shoot up in amazement, like he can’t believe he’s just been offered such an unexpected and delightful treat. He tentatively reaches out a finger and brushes it across the hair covering Jean's forehead. Like it’s something magical. And Jean, in turn, can’t believe he actually offered this, because straight away all he wants to do is sink his whole head into Eren's hand. So after about three seconds, he jerks back and says, “See? It’s just fucking hair.”

Eren nods. He looks disappointed that it's over so quickly.


	9. The Calm Before the Storm

Jean is on the very tail end of his vacation time. He has an uncomfortable conversation with his boss, wherein he promises the life of his firstborn child in exchange for a few extra days. The rescue is planned for this Saturday, though, and he needs to be there, to see it through, to help bring Mikasa home. After that, who the hell knows?

He's also been fooling around with the little spell book. Some of the spells only require words, no materials. He’s out in the back yard, trying out a spell that creates a small illumination, when a column of light as thick as a chimney shoots out of his hand like a rocket. Holy shit!

Armin is in the barn, and Jean, tongue tripping over the words, grabs him and pulls him out to show him.

Armin only nods calmly as Jean repeats the spell, as though this is confirms something he was already thinking.

“You’re a witch,” he says. “Much more powerful than me, in fact. That's how you broke the wards surrounding the barn that first night.

“No!” scoffs Jean. “Impossible.” But even as he denies it, it all falls into place in his head: his mother’s letter, the strength in the house, the twitching, knowing sense of where the totem was. It’s true! He’s a witch. It's an odd feeling. What does it mean, exactly? That he can do magic? Make things light up? Learn more complicated spells; like, perhaps, how to spell silver? The whole idea fills him with a jostling, quivering excitement.

Armin is too busy to do much more, but he does provide Jean with several names of reliable witch tutors, (like SAT tutors, Jean wonders?), and extracts a promise from Jean that he won’t practice any more witchcraft until he gets some training under his belt: “It’s too dangerous, Jean.”

Jean walks back into the house, full of fizzing excitement, into the kitchen, the heart of this strange new power of his.

Eren is sitting on one of the counters, looking out through the large windows. He’s resting his chin on one knee, the other leg hanging down. The sight makes his breath catch. The unruly thatch of hair, the curve of Eren’s back, his dangling leg. Jean has an almost uncontrollable urge to touch, to feel Eren. He doesn’t understand how he didn’t realize earlier how perfect Eren is. Nor, for that matter, why he hated him so much. One of life’s mysteries, he supposes. And maybe it’s Jean’s newfound knowledge, or maybe it’s Eren’s pensive expression, or maybe it's a combination of the two, but all of a sudden Jean can’t wait any longer.

Eren doesn’t notice until Jean is right in front of him.

“Jean?” His leg drops as he straightens up. His eyes narrow. “Everything all right?”

Jean doesn’t trust himself to speak. He slides in between Eren’s legs until he is pressed flush against the counter. He hopes he’s communicating loud and clear when he locks his arms around Eren’s back, tips his head up to Eren’s face. Eren is staring at him in fascinated silence, like Jean is a snake. This isn’t really fair, Jean thinks. If anything, _Eren_ is the snake, what with his emerald green eyes; his smooth, cool skin; his fangs. Jean stares back boldly, invitingly. There is a long silence; neither of them moves. Jean is just starting to lose his nerve, to think he’s made a horrible mistake, when Eren finally gets it.

 _Took you long enough_ , Jean tries to convey with his eyes, but his heart is thumping too hard for him to add any bite to it, even in his own head. A smile of delighted wonder settles over Eren’s face.

The smile does that thing to Jean’s chest, where he almost can’t breathe. But he can, he keeps breathing. He keeps breathing even when Eren brings his hands up to hold Jean’s face, tilting it slightly to the side so that their mouths fit together perfectly when he leans in and presses his lips softly, carefully, against Jean’s. He hooks his ankles around Jean's waist, locking him in place.

Eren breaks off, slides his hands up. He runs his fingers through Jean’s hair, watches the strands fall back down. He does it again. Jean knows that his hair must be catching the afternoon sun, shining golden, and he grins at the obvious pleasure Eren takes in the sight. The delicate tugs send shivers along his spine. He tolerates this for a little longer, then grows impatient.

Jean unlocks his arms, runs his hands up Eren's chest. He links his fingers around Eren's neck, pulling him down. He is already intoxicated by the taste of Eren, his familiar smell coupled with this new feel of him. He licks at Eren’s lips, nudging his way into Eren’s mouth, sighing as Eren opens up to him.

Once Eren is in, he’s all in. He kisses Jean harder, clashing against him, sloppily, with very little finesse. Does this mean Eren lacks experience? Jean finds this hard to believe, what with Eren being so fucking gorgeous and all, but he likes the idea of it. Very much indeed.

“Jean,” Eren rasps. He hitches forward, sliding off the counter and down Jean’s body until his legs are planted on the floor. Jean likes this, too, Eren squeezed in between him and the counter, pressure in all the right places. Eren’s grip is tight, one hand on the back of Jean’s neck, the other on Jean’s waist, pulling him in. But all too soon, Eren wriggles out from this position, swings around, and starts backing towards the stairs. And now it’s as if he’s leading Jean by a noose, because Jean can’t stay close enough, has to keep his mouth on Eren’s, his arms clutching at Eren, can’t let him get away. 

And then they’re upstairs. As soon as they’re inside Jean’s room, Eren kicks the door shut with a bang. He backs onto the bed, pulling Jean down hard on top of him. And this is so much better. This is what the bed, _their_ fucking bed, is for. He can lie full on top of Eren, feel Eren everywhere; except – there’s too much fabric separating them. Jean yanks off his shirt, and together they wrestle Eren out of his. It’s almost too much, chest to chest, Eren’s smooth, cool skin against Jean’s, already hot and tinged with red.

Eren is groaning Jean's name, interspersed with short, panting moans, and he’s kissing furiously now, wet and hard, gripping Jean tightly in a rough hand that almost bruises, while Jean burrows into him.

And they still have too many clothes on, but then they don’t, and it’s even better. And Jean is not surprised to find that under all Eren’s coolness there is, after all, considerable heat. 

Afterwards, Eren lies on his back, his hand drifting lazily down Jean’s arm. Jean is stretched out on his stomach, his eyes half-closed, basking in the feeling of blissful satiety. Everything is hazy, but in the small corner of his mind that is still functioning, he wonders how the hell he fell so hard and so fast for this mad, tender, creature, who now holds Jean’s heart in his crazy-ass fist. He knows he should be concerned about this fact, but he can’t bring himself to worry too much, especially with Eren’s smell all over him. All he wants is to be closer to him. He doesn’t know what’s come over him. He’s so completely, hopelessly, head over heels in love that he feels an urgent need to tell Eren. To tell him _right now_ , in fact. Before Jean has to leave. Before Eren has to leave. Before this perfect moment ends.

He rolls over lazily.

“Eren,” he whispers, nuzzling into Eren’s neck. He moves up, lapping gently at Eren’s ear, relishing the taste of him. “I – I think I l – l – ”

At this, Eren whips around and smothers Jean’s mouth with a kiss. Jean is surprised to find that that’s all it takes for desire rise up again in him with full force. He stops talking, abandoning himself to it, happy to ride that wave until it crashes onto the shore.

When they come down to dinner, reeking of sweat and sex, Eren’s hair a train wreck, Jean’s not much better, deliberately not looking at each other, Armin glances at them sharply but says nothing. Jean tries to participate in dinner chit chat, but all he can think about is how much he wants to haul Eren into his lap and taste him again.

Levi arrives not long after, and Eren, Armin and Levi end up closeted in the barn well into the night. Jean goes to bed. When he wakes up at 3 am, dream-Reiner’s eyes boring into him, he only has to give a quick squeeze to the arm already clamped around his waist before he falls back into a dreamless sleep.


	10. Crash Landing

Three more times, Jean tries to tell Eren he loves him. He knows he's rushing headlong into this, but he has an inexplicably panicky feeling that he's _running out of time._

Three times, and, Jean may be a little slow on the uptake, but by the third time, he realizes it’s no coincidence that as soon as Jean starts talking, Eren’s passion conveniently rises and sweeps him away. There must be something in Jean’s voice when he’s about to express himself in that particular way that tips Eren off.

He gives it one more go for good measure. A final test. Eren is in the living room, and Jean comes up from behind. He slides his hands around Eren’s waist and plants a kiss on Eren’s cheek.

“Eren, I – “

Eren’s immediate reaction is to spin around, jamming his mouth onto Jean’s. It’s almost funny, but it isn’t. It isn’t the least bit funny.

_Eren doesn’t want Jean to say it!_ He doesn’t feel the way Jean does! It’s hard to reconcile the two equally strong impressions – Eren’s passionate embraces, and the hideous realization that Eren doesn’t want to hear Jean’s declaration of love. Jean’s not sure if he feels breathless from the kiss, or from the hollowness squeezing him from the inside. He breaks off, muttering something about “stuff to do” and leaves the room.

The crumpled emptiness is perhaps what prompts him to address another niggling concern. No one has briefed him on the upcoming mission. He doesn’t feel like talking to Eren again, so he finds Armin in the barn.

“What’s my role going to be?”

Armin looks up, startled. “Jean.”

“On Saturday?”

Armin doesn’t say anything.

“For the rescue?” Jean prompts.

Armin swallows. He grimaces slightly and squares his shoulders. Jean is confused. Why does Armin look so uncomfortable?

“Ah, Jean. Yes. Well. You’re, um, not part of the mission,” Armin gets out.

“What?” Jean can’t have heard correctly; or perhaps Armin is joking? “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Um. We don’t, ah, need your help after all.” He’s blushing, and he can’t meet Jean’s eyes. “But thanks for offering!” he adds, trying for an upbeat note.

“Does Eren know about this?”

Armin’s blush deepens. “It was Eren’s decision, Jean.” He adds, obviously too late, “But, uh, maybe you should talk to him, um, directly about this?”

By the time he tracks Eren down, Jean has worked himself into a comfortable rage. It feels good to have a legitimate reason to be angry at Eren.

“What the hell? I’m not part of the mission?”

“No.” Jean waits, but there's no accompanying explanation. Just the flat _No_.

“Why not?” Jean is right up in Eren’s space. It’s as if it's the night of his arrival all over again, when the very sight of Eren's angry, obstinate face was like a match to kerosene. His hands are out in front of him, and he accidentally-on-purpose pushes Eren backwards slightly. But then it's not like that night; it's much, much, much worse. Because Eren doesn't push back. He's not even going to fight.

Jean takes a deep breath, about to let fly, to defend his right to participate. Wasn’t _Jean_ the one who got them the information about the totem? With Eren and Armin’s help, of course, but wasn’t it _his_ fucking idea? Wasn’t he the one who actually _found_ it and took the pictures? Jean’s also a witch. He can’t do very much with it yet, but that’s got to be worth something, right? Maybe he was powerless before Reiner, but didn't Eren himself say Jean' had "remarkable" strength in trying to fight him? Unless Eren had been lying to him through his teeth, offering up empty words to comfort him.The thought makes the hollow space widen dangerously. Fortunately, there's still more than enough anger to propel him forwards. He opens his mouth to speak, and -

Eren jumps in first, managing to metaphorically sweep Jean’s legs out from under him at the same time he throws a curve ball right at Jean’s face.

“Because you’ll drag the mission down, Jean.” It is uttered without mercy.

All the blood drains from Jean’s head; he thinks it must be pooling in the hot well of shame rising up to swallow him. This is it. Eren doesn’t trust him. _He thinks Jean is weak._

Jean is fine for Eren to play around with, for Eren to _pet_ , for Eren to _fuck_ , even, but Jean will never carry his own weight. Jean will never be a teammate. And Jean most definitely will never be a _partner._ No wonder Eren didn’t want to hear any amorous confessions from the lovesick puppy following him around.

It hurts. The hollow space inside of him is now full of rusty nails. Jean clenches his teeth. 

“Fuck you.” He has to bite down hard to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes. He is _not_ going to cry in front of Eren Jaeger.

He spins on his heel. Eren calls after him but doesn’t follow.

Jean walks up the stairs mechanically, one foot in front of the other. He can hardly see what he’s doing as he packs his suitcase. He hopes he’s not forgetting anything important. Aside from his heart, of course. That’s still downstairs, trampled into the floor.

He almost leaves without saying goodbye to Armin, but he can’t quite do it. Armin has always been kind to him. Armin had faith in Jean’s abilities.

“Goodbye.”

“What?” says Armin, surprised. Jean doesn’t elaborate, just rattles off the little speech he prepared on the way into the barn.

“Good luck on Saturday. I hope the mission is a success. You can stay here as long as you need. Just lock everything up when you’re done, and let me know when you’re gone.”

Jean appreciates that Armin doesn’t try to stop him.

“OK, Jean. Thank you. For everything.” Armin leans in and gives Jean a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry.” Funnily enough, that’s what almost undoes him. He has to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand to stop the tears from spilling out.

He’s shutting the trunk when Eren stomps up and blocks the path to the driver’s seat.

“That's it? You’re _leaving_? Without even saying _goodbye_?”

Of all the nerve. Jean can’t even believe it. Eren thinks he deserves a _goodbye_? After he so casually _destroyed_ Jean? How could Jean have possibly thought he and Eren could _be_ something? They don't even speak the same language. They're on two different planets, maybe even in two different solar systems.

“Goodbye, Jaeger.” It's the easiest thing to do, to give Eren what he wants.

But he makes the mistake of looking at Eren's face, and even though it’s an angry, hard face, Jean's heart wrenches at the sight – he _loves_ him, goddammit – and the words are torn out of him involuntarily.

“ _Eren._ Goodbye, Eren. I hope – I hope you get your sister back.” Because it turns out he can’t help but care. Even though his insides have been ripped out and trampled, and he wants to curl up in a ball and cry, he still cares. Maybe that's what weaklings do. They care, and they cry. And then they run. 

He detours around Eren and slides into the car.

He doesn’t look back as he drives away.


	11. Poison bullet

Jean settles back into his condo as though he never left it. The time at his grandfather's house - _his_ house- swiftly seems unreal, like it was all a dream. The only sign that something is different is that he is sleeping a lot more than normal.

He wakes up around noon on Saturday from a strange, uncomfortable dream. It was a battle scene: dim figures wrestling against a shadowy landscape. He was in the middle of it, surrounded by blows and cries, but he was also off to the side, watching. There was fire. A small box, too, about the size of a mouse cage, with someone _inside_ it. He's nervous even thinking about that box. It was tiny, the person all squished up against the sides.

He can't shake off his agitation. He grows increasingly jittery throughout the afternoon. At some point, without thinking too much about it, he grabs his wallet and keys and makes his way down to the garage. He hops in his car.

For once, traffic is on his side.

He stops at his grandfather's house only briefly to run up and grab the garlic water from his dresser. Just in case. He doesn't know where he's going, not exactly, but something is guiding the steering wheel. Soon he's on the lonely stretch of semi-highway between the campus and the next town over. He passes the dying mall on his left, and the dead one on his right, and then there's the section of empty fields that he always finds eerie and depressing, especially in the dark.

Some instinct compels him to pull off the road in the middle of one of the barren fields. Inexplicably, he gets out of his warm, safe, car and starts tramping across the grass. The full moon shines down on the field, illuminating an alien landscape. Still, he's already about halfway to the line of trees before he sees them.

Dim, wrestling figures.

He instantly recognizes Eren, even though it's not the Eren he's used to seeing. This Eren is struggling to stay upright as two figures launch at him. A second later, he realizes they are Reiner and Bertholdt. They are pummeling Eren's chest and back, and Eren is just taking it, feebly covering his head against the blows raining down on him. At the sight of Reiner, he has a wave of absolute terror, which is luckily quickly swamped by rage; all his anger at Eren, at Reiner, at the situation, at his own frailty, is now focused on the two figures, their fists whirling. 

Quietly twisting open the container of spelled garlic, keeping his eyes low to avoid looking at Reiner's face, he runs up. They are too busy beating on Eren to notice Jean. He empties the watery garlic into his palm, then reaches up to rub the contents into Reiner's face. Reiner gives a hideous gasp and falls back, just long enough for Jean to punch him. Taken by surprise, he falls to his knees. Jean kicks his face as hard as he can. He feels the crunch of bones under his foot, and, astonishingly, Reiner is down. Jean lands a few more savage kicks for good measure, until Reiner's face is a pulpy, unrecognizable mess. He turns his attention to Bertholdt, who is still hitting Eren. Reaching around from behind, he jams whatever is left of the garlic up Bertholds's mouth and nose. When Bertholdt bends over, coughing and retching, Jean kicks him with the same ferocity, until he, too, stays down. 

Eren peers around dazedly. He's clearly not in good shape, hunched over, swaying. Jean has time to realize that the little lump of something off to the side is actually Armin's unmoving body. Adrenaline singing in his veins, he grabs the limp figure and heaves it over his shoulder. He takes hold of Eren and starts pushing him as fast as he can towards the car.

"J-j-j-jean?" asks a bewildered Eren, stumbling on the uneven ground.

"Yes," gasps Jean. "It's me. Move, Eren. Faster." He's not sure how much longer he can keep this up. Armin is surprisingly heavy, and Eren is also leaning on him.

Jean throws a nervous glance backwards, but Reiner and Bertholdt don't seem to be following.

Miraculously, they make it to the car, and Jean hurls both of them into the back seat. Eren doesn't look good. His breathing is ragged, and he collapses into the car. _What's happened to him?_

Armin wakes up as Jean turns on the ignition.

“What happened?” Jean asks, fear making his voice harsh.

“We were ambushed. As soon as we had our hands on Mikasa, the vampires came. Turns out they need her to do a trade. The witches have one of theirs.”

“Where’s Levi?”

“He went after them.”

“By himself?”

“Yeah, although his chances are slim.” No shit.

They end up half carrying Eren into the barn where he collapses onto the couch.

Armin immediately unfastens Eren’s vest, sliding it and his shirt off. Jean can see that his fingers are shaking. Eren lets out a faint groan. He is extremely pale, and his skin is icy.

Bruises are blossoming across Eren's chest and back, but Armin's attention is fixed on the small, circular mark in Eren’s upper arm. It's bleeding, but not too badly.

“There’s no exit wound,” Armin says. He falls back onto the floor, his face grim.

Eren lets out a puff of air. He leans forward, towards Jean. The wounded arm lies stiffly at his side. He plainly can't move it. He reaches out his good hand, clutching weakly at Jean's shirt.

“Jean," he pants. "Th-th-thank you. Will you… help Armin and Levi? Save Mikasa? Please?”

“Of course, Eren. Shhh. Of course I'll help.”

Eren falls back, relief obvious on his face.

"Thank you," he repeats.

"With you," adds Jean. "We'll all do it together."

Eren shakes his head slightly.

“Not... with me,” says Eren. His voice is weak but definite.

“What?” Jean’s heart begins to thump painfully. Is Eren implying that he won't be able to? “What the hell are you saying? It’s just a tiny little hole in your arm. My punches are worse than this!”

“It's... poisoned. I’ll be… dead… tomorrow. The bullet is silver, too. That's what’s weakening me... the most right now.”

“What??!! We gotta get you to a hospital. Jesus fuck, Eren!”

"Hospital... won't... help."

“What _will_ help?”

“Nothing," he says faintly.

Jean turns frantically to Armin, who is sitting on the floor, staring uselessly into space. What the fuck?

"Can’t you at least get the bullet out? Remove the silver?” His words shake Armin out of his stupor.

“Yes. We can get the bullet out. Let’s do that. Good thinking, Jean!" What the hell is going on? Why is Armin so slow on the uptake?

But Armin rises and starts pulling supplies out of various cabinets.

“ _Here_?” asks Jean, horrified. “Doesn't it need to be, um, sterile?"

“We have to act immediately,” says Armin. Now that he has a clear task before him, he's regained some of his usual calm efficiency. "I’m going to need your help.”

"OK," Jean says shakily.“I’m here.” He tries to force as much confidence into his voice as he can.

Armin unwraps a clean, white cloth. They carefully move Eren to the floor, although he gasps in pain when they move him.

The next bit of time passes in a haze of horror. Jean does his best to block out the sight and sounds of Eren grunting in pain as Armin probes the wound. By the end of it, Eren is a sweaty, limp wreck, Jean isn't much better off, and Armin has gotten hold of a small, silver pellet. It looks way too tiny to be killing Eren.

Armin thoroughly flushes out the wound. It’s too late for the poison, but hopefully he can prevent routine infection from setting in. Armin also gives Eren a shot of something that Jean hopes are antibiotics.

Once they are cleaned up, and have wrapped Eren in warm, dry blankets, Eren's face looks a bit better, and he's breathing more easily.

“Thank you," he whispers. 

"There must be an antidote? For the poison?” Jean asks desperately.

Eren only smiles weakly. Jean spins around to Armin, who gives him a sad look.

_Shit!_ They both think Eren’s going to die! Jean’s heart is battering against his chest. He grabs Eren’s face with his hands and says “You are not going to die. Do you hear me? You are NOT going to die.” He’s so afraid that he kisses Eren, hard.

When he lets go of Eren’s face, Eren blinks up at him.

“I love you, you stupid idiot!” says Jean angrily. “I don’t care if you don't want to hear it. But now that I’ve finally told you, you can’t fucking die on me!”

Eren's eyes are enormous in his face, deep pools of greenish bracken. Jean bites his lip. Eren’s face swims before him, and he can't stop the tears from spilling out, running down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry… for before. I was… a fool. Trying to… keep you… safe. Kiss me… again?” Eren's voice is barely audible.

Jean holds Eren’s chin. He leans in and touches Eren’s lips gently with his own.

“Stop… crying on me,” breathes Eren. “It’s… ruining… the kiss.”

Jean gives a strangled laugh. He hastily wipes the tears, then leans in for a proper kiss. Eren kisses back in a feeble, hungry way. His hand twitches, as though he wants to reach out to Jean, but he can't manage to lift it more than an inch off the couch. His eyes close. He is barely breathing.


	12. True Love's Kiss

“There _is_ a way,” Armin says quietly.

Jean jumps. He didn’t realize Armin was so close.

“What?! Why didn’t you say so before?”

“Because there’s always a price,” says Armin. ”Eren would never willingly let you pay it.”

Although a slight tremor runs through him at the implication of these words, Jean says, “He’s out cold." He pokes Eren to make sure. Eren doesn’t respond. “He doesn’t need to be willing.” He turns to Armin expectantly.

Armin hesitates.

"Spit it out, Armin. We don't have the luxury of time.” Jean’s voice is rough with nerves.

Armin licks his lips anxiously. “If he drinks enough of your blood, it may nullify the poison. It has to be quite a lot. You would definitely need transfusions afterwards – red blood cells and likely also plasma. There are always risks associated with transfusion. In addition, Eren may not be able to calibrate."

Jean is stuck way back on _drinks_ and _enough_ and _your blood_ , but Armin apparently takes the blank look on his face to mean that Jean doesn't understand what "calibrate" means.

"He may not be able to - to stop on time," he explains. "Although of course I would try to help with this, I'm not certain I can judge. It's - it's not within my prior experience." Armin is babbling nervously now, like a runaway train. "And if he drinks too much, you could face serious consequences: a heart att-“

“Yeah, yeah. I know, a heart attack or a stroke," Jean interrupts, trying to shut Armin up. He has finally made his way to an understanding of what Armin means, and fear is nipping at his heels. But Armin keeps talking.

“You could die,” he says implacably. His face looks like it's carved in stone.

Jean swallows thickly. He looks down at Eren, lying completely vulnerable, defenseless. With his eyes closed, he looks like a child, or an angel. Eren may be a vampire; he may be a crazy, hotheaded fool; he may not even love Jean ( _he hasn't said it_ a voice at the back of Jean's mind reminds him), but Jean can't tolerate the thought of him dying. It tears at his gut in the worst way. He also can't stand knowing that he ran away when Eren needed him. Who cares what stupid words Eren did or didn't say? Jean shouldn't have left. He shouldn't have, but he did.

He's not leaving now.

"I’ll do it."

“Are you sure?” Armin asks. Jean can tell that he’s trying to be neutral, to not force Jean’s hand, but he wants, oh so badly, for Jean to say yes.

“Yeah,” he grunts, hoping Armin will take the hint and fucking _stop talking_. But Armin doesn't. It's as though he feels honor-bound to lay out all the gory details before he'll allow Jean to throw his life away.

“If it works,” says Armin, “he’s going to leave. Meet up with Levi. Go after Mikasa."

“I know that,” says Jean, letting some of his anger at the whole situation spill out at Armin. “You think I don't know that?”

“He could still die.”

There is a silence. Jean will risk death or disability, and he still might not save Eren.

“Goddammit, get _on_ with it already,” he finally growls. He doesn’t want to hear any more.

Thankfully, Armin shuts up. He nods and gets to work tucking a towel right up against Eren. Jean realizes with a jolt that the towel is to protect the floor from blood. _His_ blood. He feels the bile rise in his throat and swallows it down, hard.

Armin rolls a limp Eren onto his side, propping him up with cushions.

"Can you... um... give us a moment?" Jean asks, his voice hoarse. "Alone?"

Jean can tell Armin doesn't want to. It's a stupid request. Eren's not even conscious. But if these are Jean's last moments before he's bled dry, he has a few things he wants to say. Armin should be able to appreciate that Jean is owed at least that much. Armin nods and steps back.

Jean drops to his knees and gently kisses Eren's cheek. It's bitingly cold against his lips. He breathes into Eren's ear, "Eren. I - I'm sorry I left you, before." He kisses the ear, an eyelid, the curve of Eren's jaw. "I love you." He lifts Eren's good hand. "You've got my heart in your hand, you fucker." He tenderly kisses the palm. "Right here. Whatever happens, you'll always have my heart." It sounds so corny, and a tiny part of Jean maybe even feels relieved that Eren isn't awake to hear him, but not really of course. He would suffer any kind of embarrassment if it meant Eren's eyes would open and he would jump up, alive and well. But Eren's eyes stay closed. He doesn't respond in any way to Jean's cheesy speech. He just lies there, cold and unmoving, his chest barely stirring with each breath. Jean brushes his lips once more over the frozen cheek.

"Come back to me. _Please,_ come back to me," he begs urgently, although he doesn't know who he's begging, since Eren can't possibly hear him.

He draws in a shaky breath, gathers himself together.

"Okay," he croaks at Armin. Armin nods, his eyes bright even from across the room. He motions Jean to lie on his back next to Eren. Jean settles in, keeping his eyes fixed on the great beams criss-crossing the barn's ceiling. Armin crooks Jean’s arm at the elbow, positions his wrist directly against Eren’s mouth. He pulls Jean’s hand back, so the wrist is taut.

“Fresh blood, Eren,” Armin whispers tenderly. Jean glances over. Armin is nuzzling Eren’s ear. Jean is surprised to feel a stab of jealousy. He also finds himself strangely aroused. The whole affair is equal parts sordid and sensual.

He clamps his eyes shut, but that doesn’t block out any of it: the intimacy between Armin and Eren, Jean’s own feelings of love and desire, his overriding fear for Eren but also for his own life; and, most prominently, the feel of Eren’s slight breath against the ultrasensitive skin stretched tight on his wrist.

There is a faint shift of air, and now Jean feels two small points against his wrist. _Fangs_. A second later, Eren's head jerks, and he bites down.

“Ah,” Jean cries out, eyes flying open. It _hurts_! His hand spasms, fluttering, but his wrist is fixed to Eren’s mouth by Armin’s unyielding grip.

Jean can’t help but look. Eren takes a few tentative licks, then grows eager, greedily lapping up the spurting blood. The crimson liquid splashes on his face and along Jean’s skin. The contrast between the red blood and the white underside of Jean’s arm is stark. Jean is both nauseated and fascinated by the sight. The pain has died down to a dull burning ache.

Eren keeps drinking the blood down in great, gluttonous gulps, and it’s Jean’s blood, all Jean’s blood. He can smell the hot, thick scent as it drains out of him.

Eren is clearly regaining his strength, and his cold hands reach up to grab Jean’s wrist, pressing it harder against his mouth. Armin falls back.

Eren is latched on like a baby now, every drop streaming into his mouth. At least it seems to be working, thinks Jean, as Eren’s grip tightens further. Jean, however, is growing steadily weaker, and he shuts his eyes against the sight. But he can’t block out the obscene slurping sound as Eren drains his life away. Even with his eyes closed it feels like the room is spinning, and Jean is floating off, sliding into oblivion.

Jean wakes up alone to the blare of an alarm. His arm is throbbing, and even without trying to move, he feels dizzy. When his vision clears, he finds that he is back on the couch, his head propped up on pillows. There’s a pressure bandage on his wrist, and his arm is a pale, pasty white.

On the small table next to his head there is a tall glass of water with a note propped against it and his cell phone. His eyes land on the note.

_Drink the water RIGHT NOW. Do NOT try to stand up on your own. Call 9-1-1. I mean it! You need medical attention._

_Eren_

_P.S. If you haven’t figured it out, the antidote was true love’s kiss – vampire style! I’m coming back for you, in this life or the next._

Fucking true love’s kiss. Holy hell, what a stupid cliché. Does that mean _Jean_ is actually Prince Charming in this warped version of a supernatural romance? He snorts to himself and reaches out feebly and awkwardly for the phone with his unbandaged hand. After he’s managed to fumble his way through turning off the alarm and making a 9-1-1 call, he folds the note up as carefully as he can with shaking fingers and shoves it into the bottom of his pocket. Then he reaches out for the water, spilling half of it on his chest as he gulps it down.

He’s in the hospital for four days, during which time the medical team and local public health officials have a grand old time trying to figure out what kind of crazy animal bit him. He's told to keep it easy for at least two weeks after he leaves, and he's prescribed iron pills for three months. Despite Armin's dire warnings, there will be no long-lasting effects from his grand, foolish gesture.

As soon as he's back in reasonable shape, he quits his job. He puts his condo on the market and moves into the house for good. He finds a low-key, local job that offers health benefits. He’s still not sure what he’s going to end up doing with his life, but he’s thinking of going back to school; the conversation with Dr. Zoe is still knocking around in his head. He contacts the witch tutor and starts lessons.

The Note is laminated and stuck to the fridge with a magnet. There are other bits of paper covering it, but Jean knows it’s there. When he wants to, he can pull it out and touch it. It’s the only tangible evidence he has that Eren exists.

Jean doesn’t really believe in reincarnation. He didn’t previously believe in supernatural beings, either, so he could be wrong about that. He doesn’t want to wait until the next life, though. He wants Eren in this life. He wants him so badly he can practically taste him. He dreams about Eren at night.

He thinks about trying to track him down but decides against it. He doesn't want to find out that Eren is dead. He's not ready for that yet.

One evening quite a while later, when he lets himself into the house, the air feels different - displaced.

“Who’s there?” he asks, on high alert. A sudden, frightening image of Reiner, his face mutilated beyond recognition, flashes before his eyes. He pulls out the little vial of spelled garlic he keeps with him at all times and holds it in front of him, top flipped open.

“Is that any way to greet a long-lost lover?” a low, nasal voice asks.

“Eren!” He can’t believe it. He jams the top shut, tosses it away, and jumps on Eren with a force that almost topples him over. “You’re alive!”

Eren lets go of his nose and throws his arms around Jean. They stand for a few moments, hugging fiercely.

Jean disengages first, holds Eren at arms length. He drinks in the sight of him. Eren is thinner and paler than he used to be. There is a long, mostly-healed scar running down his neck, disappearing into his shirt. Jean is breathless, almost choking. The tears gather unbidden in his eyes then spill out and roll down his face. He tugs Eren back in for a kiss, to make sure he’s real.

“Would you stop fucking crying? You’re always ruining the kiss!" But Eren’s voice is trembling, and when Jean pulls back, he sees that Eren’s eyes are wet, and there are tears tracking down Eren’s cheeks, too. Jean kisses the tears away.

“Your sister?” he asks, between kisses. “Mikasa?” 

He feels Eren nod. “We got her. She had a rough time, but… she’s going to be okay.”

“I’m glad,” says Jean. 

It's Eren's turn to break off and grab Jean's face. He stares up into Jean’s eyes.

“I love you, Jean. You know that, right?”

Somehow, Jean has forgotten how intense Eren's gaze can be, how it can suck all the air out of his lungs. He ducks his head into Eren’s neck and mumbles, "I kind of guessed it with the whole true love’s kiss thing.” Then, in a stronger voice. “Just remember who said it first!”

He is careful to avoid the scar as he bites gently into the juncture between Eren's neck and shoulder.

Eren shivers wildly and hoists Jean up into his arms, gripping him tightly. He starts up the stairs, stopping every few seconds to snatch a kiss from Jean's wandering mouth. 

Halfway up, Jean is struck with the ridiculous thought that Eren is going to live happily ever after with his Prince Charming, if Jean has anything to say about it.


End file.
